


Avatar: Song of Ice and Fire

by CatelynTsukino



Series: Crossover AUs [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Avatar & Benders Setting, Character Death, Crossover, F/M, Gen, Inspired by Avatar: The Last Airbender, Mentions of ATLA characters, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 123,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26123557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatelynTsukino/pseuds/CatelynTsukino
Summary: The Avatar. One of the greatest legends, recounted for centuries across Westeros and Essos. It is said the last Avatar died in the battle against the Others, before the Wall was even built. Ever since then, many await for their return.Of course, the maesters dismiss those stories. They always do. It is impossible to bend more than one element, they say.But how can they deny now that a bastard in the far North has bent ice and fire? And what threat prompted the Avatar's rebirth? Will he be enough to save the world from its doom?
Relationships: Aegon Blackfyre/Daenerys Targaryen, Allyria Dayne/Tyrion Lannister, Cersei Lannister & Daenerys Targaryen, Jaime Lannister & Jon Snow, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Jon Snow/Ygritte, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Crossover AUs [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2123070
Comments: 147
Kudos: 197





	1. Catelyn I

**Author's Note:**

> I was toying with the idea of Westerosi houses bending different elements, and this story started to grow and annoy me until I wrote it! I have absolutely no self control xD  
> As you'll see throughout the story, special bending forms and variations are featured as separate from one another. This will be explored later on.  
> ATLA characters might be mentioned in passing, as name drops (likely as previous Avatars; I have short backstories for Aang, Korra and Kyoshi). As such, it CAN be read without having watched ATLA.  
> The presence of bending would change a lot of ASOIAF world, but I didn't want to change it to the point of being unrecognizable, so there will be adaptations to make things work similarly even though it's a very different setting. That being said, character arcs and plot point WILL change from canon. (For example, don't expect a War of the Five Kings like we see in the source material.)  
> Enjoy the story!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catelyn finds out the truth about her husband and his bastard son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT (02.21.2021): Addition of the subtitle below.

**AVATAR: SONG OF ICE AND FIRE**

**BOOK ONE: WESTEROS**

* * *

Jon Frost, her husband's bastard from war times, is a non bender.

In three years, ever since his birth, he has yet to show any abilities. While it's not _impossible_ for a bender to manifest their powers late, it's highly _unlikely_. Everyone, including Ned, has declared him a non bender, and even the boy seems to accept he won't be like his half-brother.

It makes her wonder about the boy's mother more often than she should. Most rumours around Winterfell claim it's the late Ashara Dayne, who committed suicide shortly after the war ended. She tries to remember whether Ashara was a bender or not; most Daynes were lavabenders, after all.

By all accounts, Jon _should_ be a bender, of either lava or ice—like his father. Robb is a waterbender like her, having shown his abilities two days after birth. Ned's bastard is so fascinated by his half-brother's powers, she can't help but put them to play together, partly because she wants the poor kid minimally entertained, partly due to pride for her son.

Perhaps Jon's mother is not Ashara, but a non bender. Men's love— _lust_ —rarely makes the distinction between benders and non benders, so she wouldn't rule out the possibility that her husband laid down with a commoner with no abilities.

Regardless, she tries to give the boy some love. Jon is a sweet baby of three, and, rationally, she knows he is not at fault for his father's mistake. However, she has yet to succeed at her efforts, and always ends up treating him rather coldly. She has prayed to the Mother about it more than once.

Oh, well. A bastard is a bastard, and perhaps she is not fit to love a reminder of Ned's betrayal. At least Robb gives him brotherly love.

Speaking of which, the boys at Winterfell's solar, with her and Eddard nearby. From the corner of her eye, she watches Robb levitating a small portion of water, which Jon is trying to catch. At one moment, he sneezes. And Robb _screams_.

She stands up and runs to her son. Soon Ned is at her side. Jon apologizes nonstop, which confuses her—how can he be at fault?

Then she sees it. A burn mark on Robb's right arm, the one that was closest to Jon when he sneezed.

"Oh, no", Ned whispers.

She raises her head at him, reaching the same conclusion. "Jon is a firebender, isn't he?"

"It seems so, yes", he replies, and turns to Jon. "Is this the first time?"

Jon shakes his head; tears fall from his eyes. "Last night I burned my sheets when I saw a raven flying inside my room. I'm so sorry!"

Acting on instinct—Jon is a child, after all—she comforts him. "It was beyond your control, Jon. Robb has little control of his bending too, yours is just different." She turns to her son and, taking water from the air around her, motions around his burn to heal it.

"I don't like it,'' Jon says in response. "I don't like hurting people."

It's Ned's turn to speak. "With proper training, you won't hurt a fly", he says softly, though he is unable to mask the fear in his eyes. It can't be fear out of Jon's powers; he isn't lying when he tells Jon he can go on with his life without hurting anyone if he is well-trained. The only plausible explanation for her husband's fear is if Jon's powers reveal a parentage that shouldn't come to light.

_Jon can only be a firebender if his mother was one, or descended from one._ But Jon's mother can't be _any_ firebender if her identity is meant to be a secret. Firebending used to be exclusive of Valyrians; after the Doom, only their descendants showed such powers. In Westeros, the only known firebenders were Targaryens, with the eventual Velaryon firebender showing up. Essosi firebenders could be found mostly in Lys, if her memory served her right. _But if Jon's mother was a common lyseni, Ned has no reason to fear his firebending. Perhaps she was a noble…_

But this isn't compatible with the timeline of Jon's conception, she realizes. As far as she knows, there were no important lyseni in Westeros during the war. There were no important _Essosi_ there, leaving only Houses Targaryen and Velaryon as suspects. There hasn't been a firebender in House Velaryon for decades, and the last one had been a man. _That leaves only House Targaryen, but who? The last firebenders were Queen Rhaella and Prince Rhaegar._

Realization dawns on her. Ned's story regarding Jon suddenly doesn't add up. What does he hide, and how does Jon's newfound abilities threaten this secret?

She reflects on all of this as she heals Robb's wound. It's a small burn, and it takes no time to scar. Then Ned calls for a servant to take the boys out of the solar. Soon they are alone, and they are so by _his_ hand. It can only mean one thing: he intends to tell her truth _now_.

Well, then, why delay a second further? She starts, "I was told once, by _you_ , that Jon was your blood, and that was all I needed to know. I suppose this is not the case anymore, is it?"

Ned sighs, and gestures for them to sit down. This clearly is hard on him; the only question is _why_. "I had hoped Jon would stay as a non bender", he begins, "or at least develop into an icebender like me. That way I'd be able to… keep my promise."

She frowns. He's not making any sense, not with the little she knows. Then again, it seems that all she knows are lies. "Promise to whom?"

Instead of answering, he asks _her_ a question. "Tell me, Catelyn, who are—or _were_ —the firebenders of Westeros?"

That is easy. She had just recollected that information moments ago. "Queen Rhaella and Prince Rhaegar. Both are gone."

He nods. "Correct. So, if Jon is a firebender…"

"... he could be born out of either of them", she concludes. And then, "Queen Rhaella died in childbirth."

He shakes his head. "It is true, but the child she gave birth to fled to Essos with Prince Viserys, and they have yet to be found by Robert. Besides, the kid was born _after_ the war, not during it."

She blinks, realizing he's right. But… "That only leaves Prince Rhaegar", she says, "and Jon has the Stark loo—oh." She takes a sharp breath as all the puzzle pieces come together to form the big picture. "Jon is your _nephew_."

She remembers so vividly, the news of her former betrothed's death. It was how she got married to Ned in the first place. Brandon had gone to King's Landing to demand his sister Lyanna back—the girl had suddenly disappeared, and then _Prince Rhaegar_ was gone, and everyone linked the two events and concluded he had kidnapped her. A year later, Ned found her, but she died soon after, and her bones now rest in the crypts. Her husband even commissioned a statue for her, an honor only lords of Winterfell received.

Ned closes his eyes and nods. She opens her mouth to ask for the full story, but soon finds out she doesn't have to prompt him. "I found Lyanna covered in blood, lying on a bed", he starts. "She was so weak, she couldn't even _try_ to heal herself. I tried—oh, I tried—but I wasn't a master back then, not to mention my lack of skills in healing arts, and the Dornish air was so _dry_ , I couldn't draw enough water for even the weakest attempt."

He inhales, and she reaches one of his hands. He finally opens his eyes, which look into hers. "She was holding a baby", he goes on. "A baby boy. I think she was trying to feed him, but if that was the case, she was failing miserably. She was feverish, panting heavily, and I knew, deep down, she wasn't going to last.

"As soon as I kneeled beside her, she turned to me and gave me her baby. 'Promise me, Ned', she said. 'Promise you'll protect him.' I think she knew Rhaegar died, and figured Robert wouldn't let a Targaryen heir live. She died before I could ask for details, though. Her last breath happened shortly after her hurried plea."

He pauses, and she knows it's more for his own sake than hers. She has always known he witnessed his sister's death, and that her memory was so sad he had trouble talking about her, but now his grief is brought under a whole new light. He has to look at a direct reminder of his loss every day, and, for two years, has lied to everyone about it to spare his nephew of his best friend's wrath.

"Does anyone else know?", she asks, hoping she's not the first.

"The Daynes know the baby is not Ashara's, contrary to popular belief." So he knows about the rumors. "But nothing more. For all they know, Jon is mine."

"Ned", she said softly, "why didn't you tell me? I could have kept the secret, and you wouldn't have to bear this burden alone."

He shakes his head. "I couldn't risk it. We barely knew each other back then. How could I know whether it would change your treatment of him? As much as it hurts me, it wouldn't be wise to have you treat Jon any differently than what it would be expected of you. I needed you to _believe_ he was my bastard to assure you'd act accordingly."

It saddens her, and her chest is filled with shame, but he's right. If she saw Jon as what he truly is—her nephew—it would be hard for her to treat him as coldly as she does today, believing him to be Ned's son with another woman. It breaks her heart that her husband deemed her mistreatment of him necessary to keep him alive, and it angers her to realize it's the truth.

"But now it can no longer be a secret", he says, sighing. "Firebending is not something you can exactly _hide_ , and since the last generation of firebenders consisted of two people only, it won't be long before rumours begin, rumours that _will_ draw Robert's attention…"

She stands up. "We need to find a new place for Jon to hide", she says abruptly. "Somewhere he can firebend without drawing attention from important nobles who could tell the king about him. Winterfell is too dangerous. The only question now is _where_." She paces around. "A place farther north is preferrable. News from there takes longer to spread, _when_ they do, and your bannermen are usually loyal…" She freezes in place. "Howland Reed", she whispers, turning to him.

He raises his eyes to her. "What about him?"

"He was with you when you rescued Lyanna, wasn't he?" He nods. "So he knows about Jon."

He blinks. _Did he forget about Lord Reed?_ "It's true, he does. If we are talking strictly about _hiding_ Jon, he'd be an excellent option. But this is not the case. We need to get Jon _trained_ , otherwise all efforts will be for nothing. No hideout will be good enough if he accidentally sets the place on fire."

It's her turn to blink. "Then, where? Essos?" She has trouble imagining Ned sending Jon so far from Winterfell. Not to mention the Free Cities are far from a safe haven; if the truth about Jon reaches the wrong man, he might use it to his advantage somehow—and she doesn't want to imagine the poor boy falling into hands of schemers.

"I was thinking of trying the Wall first", he says, waking her from her reverie. "The Night's Watch has members from all over Westeros, and it's not far-fetched to think there might be a firebender there. If not, we may ask their maester to send a raven to the Citadel asking for firebending scrolls. _I_ have no reason to ask for them as an icebender and Lord of Winterfell, but it would not be suspicious for the Night's Watch to make such a request."

She nods in agreement. The Wall is close to Winterfell, which enables frequent visits. Also, Benjen is a black brother, meaning Jon will be with someone they trust. There is only one flaw in Ned's plan, though. "How will he be raised in the Wall? There are no women there, and the men are not exactly trained to fatherhood."

"I suppose we'll cross that bridge when we get to it", he replies instantly, and she doesn't disagree. Instead, she suggests they get both boys and start packing as soon as possible.

And pack they do. For a moment, she panics, wondering whether Jon firebent in front of servants, but the boy is frightened enough by his abilities that he is as keen as hiding them as they are, which is a temporary relief—he'll have to overcome his fears sooner or later, but for now they are a lesser evil. Ned announces the family will travel to the Wall, and does not explain himself further. People send questioning looks, but no one dares ask to his face—or hers. Only Robb and Jon do, and they are satisfied when they reply it's a surprise.

They leave two days after that fateful revelation, with a small party consisting of the four of them, one of her maids and two of her husband's guardsmen, Alyn and Harwin. The small party allows for faster travel, and they soon reach the Wall.

She has never been there before, and can't help but stare at the building in awe. They can see it hours before they actually arrive at the place, and it shines with the little sunlight it gets. She remembers hearing from Maester Luwin—who has yet to be informed of recent events—that the Wall is almost entirely built on ice.

"It is said to have been built by Bran the Builder, the greatest icebender who ever lived", he told her. "Of course, he couldn't have built it all by himself, for there are foundations that would have required at least one metalbender to help. Regardless, it _was_ built by icebenders and metalbenders alike, and the Night's Watch still asks for the former category to keep it standing strong." That was one of the reasons why Benjen took the black shortly after the war. He was no master back then—she doesn't know if he qualifies as one _now_ —but skilled enough to be useful as builder.

She tries the air around them by condensing it into droplets of water. Such an ability required years of training, and the fact she had it was one of the main factors behind Lord Rickard's choice of her as Brandon's bride. For reasons even her husband is unable to pinpoint, Rickard had 'southron ambitions' that differed widely from Starks' usual behavior regarding marriage and alliances. It was as if he wanted to add other kinds of benders into the Stark bloodline; for what reason, everyone speculates, but no one really knows.

All that was known was that, after sending Ned to be fostered by Jon Arryn—an airbender—Rickard arranged a marriage between his only daughter and Ned's friend from fostering times, Robert Baratheon—an earthbender. According to her husband, Lyanna's dissatisfaction with that betrothal was likely a factor behind her disappearance with Rhaegar. He told her while in bed that he doubted his sister was _abducted_ by the late prince; even though she didn't say much, he could see she cared for Jon's father. Of course, he never had the time to figure out the extent of her affections for him.

As they get closer to the Wall, the air gets somewhat thicker, and it's harder for her to condense it. Ned has a little less trouble with the task, which is a given considering he's the icebender of the couple, but he still struggles as they approach the place.

Finally, they are welcomed by Benjen, who hugs his brother tightly, greets her with the courtesy she's used to from him, and ruffles both Jon's and Robb's hair. "Follow me", he says. "I have my own chambers since my roommate passed away; we can talk privately there."

It occurs to her that Ned might have sent some raven ahead of them. It'd be a wise choice, even with the risk of the letter falling into wrong hands. She follows him silently, holding the boys' hands as they look around in unashamed awe.

Benjen's chambers are way upstairs, and she's having trouble breathing when they finally reach it. He motions for them to sit as he closes the door behind him. "So, brother", he begins, "you told me in your letter you had urgent and private matters to discuss. What is it that is so important that you _came_ here, leaving Winterfell with no Starks?"

'There always must be a Stark in Winterfell', it's an old saying, one her good family takes rather seriously. However, she is sure the matter of Jon is worth breaking traditions. "I will be rather blunt with you, brother", Ned replies, "for there is no easy way to say this. Jon just showed firebending powers."

Silence falls among them. Benjen glances at Jon, who looks down in shame. She ruffles his hair in an attempt to soothe him. Eventually, her good brother asks, "What's the true story behind it, Ned?"

He tells the whole tale he told her two days ago, using softer words in respect of the kids in the room. Jon and Robb still understand, though, and, in the end, Robb asks if that means Jon is not his brother anymore. "He's your natural cousin, my darling", she replies in a low voice, "but he can still be your brother if you so desire."

Her son looks at Jon, who is still looking down. "I like being Jon's brother", he decides. "I don't want that to change."

"Then it won't", Ned says, in a tone that sounds final for all of them. Jon raises his head, and she can see his eyes watering.

Meanwhile, Benjen has stood up and gone to the small window. "You came to ask us to hide and train him, right?" They both nod, and he sighs. "It will be no easy feat. There are no women here, as you know, and most of us never knew fatherhood. However, I can speak to our Lord Commander. He'll need to know the truth, though, otherwise he'll fail to see why a child should be hidden here of all places, but he _has_ been a father, so there is hope."

"What about his training?", she asks. "Is there any firebender in the Night's Watch who could teach Jon to control his powers?"

Benjen grins. "It seems you have all forgotten. Our maester is a Targaryen. Aemon, brother of King Aegon V. He may be almost ninety years old, and essentially blind, but his mind is sharp and he's a firebending master."

_So Jon is not the last firebender in Westeros_ , she thinks, relieved. _Those must have been lonely years for Aemon Targaryen, though_. She had trouble adjusting to being the only waterbender upon moving to Winterfell, and was relieved when Robb showed to have taken after her instead of Ned; she can't imagine how it must have been for the maester, especially in his first years at the Night's Watch.

Benjen takes Ned to the Lord Commander, Jeor Mormont, and then leads her and the boys to Maester Aemon's chambers. She is greeted by the sight of an old, bald man, with eyes as white as milk, sitting by the window while staring at seemingly nothing. He barely turns to their direction as Benjen closes the door. "Maester", he calls, "I've brought visitors. This is Catelyn Stark, my good sister, and these are my nephews, Robb Stark and Jon... Frost."

The builder's hesitation is understable; _she_ doesn't know how to properly refer to Jon now. Sure, he can still be a Frost due to his mother, but bastards are usually named under their father's powers—by that rule, her nephew should be called Jon _Fyre_ now.

Regardless, Jon _Frost_ is how he knows himself, and it seems that Benjen reached the same conclusion. Aemon nods politely. "It is a pleasure to meet all of you", he says. "What brings the Starks to the Wall?"

She clears her throat and answers, "Jon has revealed himself to be a firebender. He… he's Rhaegar Targaryen's son with my deceased good sister, Lyanna Stark. He has been named Jon Frost because my husband tried to pose him as his own bastard, but now we can longer keep this facade."

The maester's serene expression breaks into a smile. "Another firebender. It's delightful to know I am not alone in this realm. Little Jon, come here." The boy approaches him rather shyly—Jon has always been shy and reserved, but now even more so. "What have you done with your bending so far?"

Jon's voice cracks as he answers, "I… I burned my bed sheets. And Robb's arm. N-not on purpose."

Aemon chuckles. "No, I suppose not. When I was your age, I once burned my baby brother's shoulder. Egg carried the scar even after he was crowned and could find the best healers in the realm to get rid of it. Of course, nowadays I don't burn people anymore."

"What do you do?"

The maester's smile widens. He truly seems happy to have another firebender nearby. "I bring heat to the castle, my boy. I lit fireplaces, candles and lanterns. My fire lasts longer than ordinary flames, which makes me a very valuable asset in the Night's Watch. Besides, my flames are the only ones that can make me see a little bit nowadays. I lit some with my fingers", he snaps his right hands' fingers, and a small flame erupts from them, "and bring them closer to my eyes." He does as he says. "You are a tall boy, it seems. How old are you?"

"Three", Jon replies in a low voice, distracted by the controlled flames in the maester's fingers. Aemon opens his hand, and the fire is gone. "You can put out the fire too?"

He nods. "The beauty of our element, Jon, is that we can _create_ and _erase_ it from existence. Water, air, earth… all other elements have to draw from pre-existent matter. But firebenders… we are _creators_."

Jon's shining eyes are visible from across the room, and she smiles. Silently, she prays Lord Commander Mormont allows him to stay at the Wall; she doubts he will be as comfortable as he is now elsewhere. Suddenly, Maester Aemon raises his head away from Jon. "Benjen", he calls, "would you escort our little firebender and his cousin to the training yard? I am sure they will love it there."

Her good brother nods. It's obvious he wants to talk to her in private. As they leave, she closes the door and approaches him. "I'm all ears, Maester Aemon."

He turns his eyes to the window, as if watching whatever is happening outside; from her place, she can see nothing but snow. "He is Rhaegar's son, you say?" She replies 'yes'. He sighs. "He wrote to me rather often when he was younger. He had found out about the prophecies regarding the Avatar, and was certain they would be reborn through his seed. He took great measures to assure as many prophecies as possible would fall in place." He turns in her direction. "Do you know any of them?"

She frowns, trying to remember what her septa used to say. "The Faith of the Seven claims the Warrior is the Avatar."

"And the Warrior is a firebender. Interesting." He hums. "There are many other prophecies, from across the world. It's too soon to say anything, of course, but we should all keep an eye on Jon. He fits too many of them."

She feels something rising in her throat. "The Avatar is a legend", she manages to say. "One of the most detailed legends from the Age of Heroes, but a legend nonetheless. Maesters usually dismiss them."

He chuckles. "When you spend almost your entire life so near the end of the world, you start to believe in some of those legends, my lady. Magic _exists_ , after all. We are all proof of it, with our bending. I believe in the Avatar, and I believe he may return someday."

"And you believe _Jon_ is the Avatar?"

"I believe he is a strong candidate", he replies slowly. "But so was Rhaegar in his childhood years. He fit many aspects of the 'prince that was promised' prophecy, but that was all. Besides… are you familiar with the Avatar cycle?", she shakes her head, then replies 'no'. "According to the so-called _legends_ , the Avatars obeyed a cycle. One generation would have their Avatar born from airbenders, the next from waterbenders, next from earthbenders, then from firebenders, and back to airbenders. Specialties varied, but the cycle was always obeyed." He blinks. "The last known Avatar, the one who reportedly died in the Battle of the Dawn, was an earthbender. That's why it's widely believed an eventual new Avatar will be reborn from firebenders."

_It could be an Essosi_ , she thinks. _It might not even be reborn now_ , she hopes. The rebirth of the Avatar may be a much awaited event for many, but its meaning does not sit well with her. What could possibly be happening for the world to need the Avatar again?

Maester Aemon's voice brings her back to reality. "Of course, I'll train him regardless of his future. No firebender should be left unsupervised." He chuckles. "If Mormont doesn't agree with taking him outright, I'll talk to him. Don't worry, my lady, Jon will stay here with me."

She sighs in relief and smiles. "Thank you, Maester Aemon. We won't forget your kindness."

When she reunites with Ned, he tells her Lord Commander Mormont accepted to have Jon raised at the Wall. "He might have to take the black when he is of age", he explains, "but otherwise there was no trouble in convincing him."

_If Maester Aemon truly believes Jon to be the Avatar, he might not take the black_ , she thinks, but decides against telling him. There is no point dwelling on such a remote possibility, especially not now, when she has to focus on their goodbyes to Jon. He cries, Robb cries, a tear falls from her face, but they promise to visit regularly, and her nephew _is_ excited to be trained by Maester Aemon, so it's alright.

_Jon is a firebender, and that is all. He will take the black, and he won't face any worldly threats as the Avatar reborn._ Perhaps, if she prays to the old gods and the new both, someone will listen.


	2. Benjen I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benjen watches his nephew grow up in the Wall, and witnesses something that changes history forever.

Under Maester Aemon's supervision, Jon is all but a firebending master at the tender age of eight. With his abilities, he can light up most of the Wall's active fireplaces, and he helps with torches and candles. He has also begun to figure out, all by himself—because Aemon does not have such skill—how to use heat to lessen muscle pains—something they all go through once in a while.

His nephew is _happy_ on the Wall, and has often shown interest in taking the black once he is old enough. This eases his heart, for it had been a request on Lord Mormont's part—he is still unsure whether it was a mandatory condition or not. Jon will be a good black brother, likely a ranger.

His brother comes to visit every once in a while, bringing his family along. Jon and Robb are always delighted to see each other, and they even spar on occasion—especially after Jon got full control over his firebending and no longer burns others. Sansa, who is now six, is usually a bit scared, but her cousin goes out of his way to assure her it's safe to come closer.

Catelyn is always a little tense around Maester Aemon, and though he can't figure out why, he suspects it has something to do with his own feelings when he sees the way the old man reacts to Jon showing off his admittedly advanced skills. It's… not _uncanny_ , but it doesn't sit right with him for some reason. Like the maester knows something none of them do—except, perhaps, for his good sister. He remembers the two talked for quite some time when Jon was brought to the Wall, five years ago. Maybe Aemon said something that scared Cat, which would explain her nervous smiles and her slightly strained voice whenever he's nearby.

Jon has also taken to cooking, ever since the cookers asked his help with the heat. In this current visit from the Starks, he manages to draw Sansa to him with a demonstration of his kitchen skills. It's amusing to watch, but also heartwarming to see the two cousins trying to get along despite their differences—even if at the cost of driving Robb to the training yard out of boredom.

Ned says his firstborn often expresses a desire to join the Night's Watch along with Jon. It's one of the few times his brother's eyes glimmer with amusement; he's surely imagining how things will certainly change when Robb grows older and develops interest in women. Benjen wants to defend his nephew and say _he_ didn't sway from his childhood dream when he became a man, but always stops himself beforehand. Robb is his heir, after all, and it's not wise to feed his fantasies.

 _Perhaps Bran will be heir_ , he thinks, _which would allow Robb to join the Night's Watch if he so desired_. Robb's status as heir to Winterfell had been sort-of secured until his youngest was born. His oldest took after Cat and developed waterbending, while Bran has already frozen his chambers twice in his ten months of life. Sansa is an icebender as well, but she's a girl, and there has always been doubt whether the North would prefer a waterbender _man_ or an icebender _woman_ as their Warden. Arya is a waterbender like her brother, meaning she has the weakest claim out of all Stark children, but now that Ned has an icebender son, his bannermen might demand him to name Bran his heir.

 _Of course, this is a matter of the future_ , he supposes. _Bran is a baby, and even Robb is a child. There will not be talks of succession until both boys are older._ All those thoughts only made him wish Catelyn had brought her two younger kids along. He knows she'll only do when they reach three years old—the age Jon and Robb were when they came to the Wall for the first time—but he is tempted to ask Lord Mormont permission to go to Winterfell to meet them. _I could claim I want_ Jon _to meet them, instead of revealing my own selfish wishes. I'm supposed to have given up family ties upon taking the black, after all._

He is taken out of his mind when Sansa freezes an entire cauldron. Many gasp, and a cooker shouts that the thing is now completely useless, but Jon manages to melt the ice away with heat, so it's all good again, and they laugh. "How did you do it?", he asks his cousin, who blushes.

"I just touched it and found it too hot", she explains. "I wanted it to be cooler, and ended up freezing it all over."

Jon tilts his head and smiles. "I wish I could icebend", he says. "I know firebending is more useful here, but I see uncle Benjen working on the Wall, and it looks so cool." He turns to said uncle. "Can we show her the builders working, uncle?"

He nods. Someone might complain the ice walls are no place for a girl, but Sansa is looking at him with wide curious eyes, and he can't tell his niece no, can he? "Follow me, kids."

They walk by his side on the way to where the builders are working this morning. It's near lunchtime, so there aren't that many of them, which is actually a good thing; there are some brutes along his coworkers, and he doesn't want Sansa near them. He barely lets _Jon_ approach them.

Othell Yarwyck, the First Builder, _is_ there, and greets both children with a smile. "Jon, long time we don't see", he says as he ruffles the boys' curls. Then he turns to Sansa. "And you, lovely girl. You look like Lady Catelyn, has anyone ever told you that?"

His niece nods, blushing again. "She is my mother, sir. I'm Sansa Stark."

He nods, placing a firm but careful hand on her left shoulder. "Already behaves like a lady. You are a promising girl. I am Othell Yarwyck, First Builder of the Night's Watch. What are you all doing here?"

"I wanted to show Sansa the builders", Jon answers. "She's an icebender too."

Sansa nods. "Mother has been teaching me to heal with ice, though it's not the same as healing with water."

The old man hums. "No, I suppose it's not. My father tried to have a waterbender train me, after my mother died. It was painful work." Benjen knows that story. House Yarwyck, like most Western houses, is an earthbender one, but his father married a Tallhart—a House full of icebenders—and Othell came to the world freezing his mother's birth bed all over. "Do you want a demonstration, little girl?"

Sansa answers with a timid 'yes'. Yarwyck turns to the ice wall in front of him and raises his hands. Like Benjen's, his movements are rigid, all squares and no curves, much unlike the ones he has seen Cat and other waterbenders do. As he moves, ice erupts from the wall in small blocks. The children watch it in awe.

"Can I do that, too?", Sansa asks.

"Well", Yarwyck replies, "it takes some years of training, but you can copy my movements and see what it does."

She smiles and positions herself like him. Othell repeats his moves, and Sansa clumsily imitates him. An ice thorn erupts from the wall, and the man congratulates her. "Can we do it again?", she asks. "I think I can do better if I repeat."

"Of course", he offers, and they position themselves again. From the corner of his eye, he sees Jon following them, and decides to stay behind his nephew, in case he firebends by accident. Once again, Yarwyck and Sansa icebend on the wall, and ice erupts from it, but Sansa manages a more rounded form this time.

And then, out of nowhere, an ice thorn erupts in front of _Jon_ , just as he copied Sansa's clumsy movements. Benjen takes a sharp breath. _It must be Sansa's doing_ , he thinks. _It can't be Jon's_.

But then his niece turns to her cousin and beams. "You did it too, Jon! Now you can join Ser Yarwyck!"

He glances at the man, who is staring at Jon, mouth agape. "Well done, Jon", he manages to say, but his voice is unstable. "Why don't you tell Maester Aemon about it? He is your teacher, after all?"

Jon beams, unaware of the repercussions of his actions. "I will! Sansa, you haven't seen Maester Aemon since you arrived, right?" She nods, all courtesy forgotten in the excitement of having another icebender in the family. "Let's go!"

He doesn't need Benjen to guide him to Aemon's chambers, but he follows them all the same. _If Jon can bend fire_ and _ice, it can only mean one thing._ He remembers hearing stories from Old Nan, but never took them seriously.

Jon barely waits for the door to close to announce his latest achievement. "Maester Aemon, I can icebend now too, just like uncle Benjen and Ser Yarwyck!", he exclaims, not even noticing Ned and Cat's presence.

His good sister chokes on air, and his brother's eyes widen. The maester raises his eyebrows, but otherwise looks as serene as ever. "Really? Would you show us, Jon? I can't see, but I can hear."

It's only then Jon notices his other uncle and his aunt, but he doesn't mind them that much. He positions himself like he did when he tried to copy Yarwyck, and made the same clumsy moves. A small portion of the chambers' wall in front of him froze, making a loud noise.

For a while, no one spoke. Sansa seems to notice the tension in the room, although she clearly doesn't understand the reason behind it. Eventually, Aemon smiles a bit. "Well, we all know what this means. Jon", he calls, and the boy approaches him, "it seems you are a very special boy."

"What do you mean, Maester Aemon?", he asks with a frown. Jon has never seen himself as special or unique, despite being the only other firebender around. He knows he's _different_ , but sees his differences as just another thing about him, like his eye color or hair curls. _He won't like to find out who he really is_.

"You remember the tales I told you about the Avatar?", the old man asks. He nods, and he continues, "Well, son, there is no one else in this world who can bend both fire and ice. It seems _you_ are the Avatar reborn, Jon."

Catelyn's face falls, as if resigned. There is a story there, he knows, but right now he couldn't care less. Hearing the maester announce it out loud makes him shiver. _If the Avatar is reborn_ , he realizes, _winter is coming, and worse than we thought._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, Jon is now the Avatar!  
> Some of you might wonder why he takes so long to bend a second element. Some of this will be explained in the next chapter (which will be told in Jon's POV), but Jon's journey as the Avatar is loosely inspired by Kyoshi's, who struggled with her own element and took so long to master it that people deemed someone else to be the Avatar. Not all Avatars were prodigies like Aang!  
> The question of succession in Winterfell will be explored later on, but feel free to give your input. Not everything is set in stone for Robb and Bran yet.


	3. Jon I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon struggles with waterbending. The Lord Commander has ideas.

Even after four years of training, Jon is not even close to being as good with ice and waterbending as he is with firebending. Maester Aemon says it's because water is fire's polar opposite, and he can get behind this concept, but _still_. He's the _Avatar_ ; shouldn't he master _all_ elements?

"It will probably be easier for you to learn the others later", his first teacher says, in an attempt to comfort him. "Especially now that you've known struggle. Firebending has always been too easy for you."

He's right, and probably the reason why Jon is frustrated. He essentially mastered firebending at eight or nine years old, which is stupidly young according to Maester Aemon, who got his master title at _nineteen_ , when he was already at the Citadel. Admittedly, he _had_ expected his training on ice and water to be just as easy, since he first did it almost on accident. However, it took him nearly a _whole year_ to get little more than ice thorns, and he _still_ can't do much more than water whips. He is a _decent_ snowbender, according to Lord Commander Mormont (his teacher on that particular element), but not much more than that.

Granted, there are no waterbenders in the Night's Watch, only icebenders and one snowbender. Yarwyck and his uncle Benjen are his main teachers, but most builders have taught him something at one point or another. His waterbending lessons come from aunt Catelyn, who is a highly skilled healer but a terrible fighter, and his cousin Robb, who is also twelve, and mocks him more than teaches him.

Not that he hasn't made _any_ progress; he has. Nowadays, he can heal most injuries the rangers get, and he has helped the builders many times with satisfactory results. He can transfer water from a pot to another, and has even melted ice a few times. However, he has been unable to condense water from air like his aunt and uncles do.

"You should try it in Winterfell", his aunt offers once. "The air here is too… thick. _I_ can't condense water most of the time here, only your uncles do. Robb hasn't mastered it either, if it's any consolation."

It _is_ , and it also makes him want to learn it faster, just so he can rub it on his cousin's face. He also misses Winterfell; his last visit happened when he was nine, and he was too focused on _not_ telling anyone he _wasn't_ uncle Ned's bastard son that he barely paid attention to his surroundings. Now that he has no trouble lying about his parentage—and hiding his bending—he can enjoy his old home just fine.

He has always been taught to not tell a soul he is the son of the dead prince Rhaegar with Lyanna Stark. Everyone outside the Wall thinks he is Eddard Stark's bastard, and even though it _shouldn't_ make sense—uncle Ned's surname should be _Honor_ instead of Stark, since he's its personification—people bought the lie, and it helps keep him safe. Of course, when he was a small child he had no idea _what_ he had to be kept safe _from_ , but over the years the truth about his family came out. He is well aware of the danger of being a Targaryen in King Robert's realm, and posing as a common non-bender Northern bastard helps him hide his identity as Avatar.

It's another well-kept secret; only Starks and black brothers know about it—not even crows are cleared for the information until they say their vows. No one knows _why_ he is the Avatar or _what_ is his mission as such. Maester Aemon talks about the Age of Heroes, the Long Night and the Battle of Dawn, stories that heavily feature the figure of the Avatar, but most of his speculations are just that, speculations. Aside from a harsh cold that never seems to go away, rangers have received no abnormal reports from beyond the Wall, the region where the infamous Others used to live.

What they _do_ know, though, is that it is undesirable to have the Avatar dragged into political conflicts. Jon himself has no interest in those, and has repeatedly asked to officially take the black. Lord Mormont always refuses, giving the same explanation. "It may not be wise for the Avatar to be sworn to any brotherhood."

Avatar, Avatar, Avatar… It's always about his status as the Avatar. What about _Jon Frost_? Is he no longer his own person, with thoughts and wishes outside whatever grand quest he was born to complete?

He shakes those thoughts out of his head. He already knows the answer: he _is_ the Avatar, first and foremost. He may not know his mission yet, but it may reveal itself anytime. He has to master all elements and prepare himself for when the time comes— _how_ he prepares himself is another question no one has a concrete answer for, so they keep trying. Jon has been taught on many non-bending arts by Maester Aemon, and the rangers train him on different weapons. Lord Mormont recently started training him with his House's ancestral sword Longclaw.

"It was supposed to go to my son Jorah", he explained, "but he disgraced his name some years ago, and has exiled himself to avoid execution." Jon wanted to ask why, but refrained to do so when he saw the commander's expression. "Usually, this sword is only wielded by master snowbenders, but I suppose you make for an acceptable exception. Just remember to give it back to House Mormont eventually."

Longclaw is a Valyrian steel sword, which makes it rather unique. There are few of its kind in Westeros, and they are all ancestral swords. Uncle Ned wields Stark's one, Ice, which is covered by… well, ice. He's seen him renew it once, which was how he found out about the sword and its history. Lord Mormont's sword is not covered in snow, but it can also be enhanced by bending, and doing so is part of his training. So far, he has been able to manipulate droplets of water and small amounts of snow, and light it on fire—which makes for a very threatening sight.

This morning, he expects to resume his sword training—he is already good at swordsmanship, but Longclaw is its own kind of sword, and he has to learn to combine martial skill with _bending_ skills, so it's _another_ set of training—but Mormont has other plans.

"You've told me, time and time again, that you want to join the Night's Watch", he begins, and for a moment he allows hope to bubble inside his chest. "I've always denied, and I still do, because of who you are." He tries not to deflate so visibly. "However, I think some experience beyond the Wall would be beneficial for you. It's where the Battle of Dawn took place, after all, and for all we know the new threat comes from there as well. Tomorrow I'll gather some black brothers for a range, and I want you to come with me."

He nods, too excited for words. It's the closest to joining the Night's Watch that he's probably ever going to get, and damn him if he doesn't take that chance. Lord Mormont dismisses him with a hand wave, saying, "Take a good meal and a good night's sleep. We'll assemble early in the morning."

Jon tries not to look _too_ happy for the rest of the day as he works with the builders. Naturally, he tells his uncle about it, and obviously the man already knows. "Mormont told me to go with you", he explains. "He said it might be a good opportunity to enforce your icebending, since our powers get stronger the further North we go." It goes unsaid that the Lord Commander probably also wanted Jon to have a more familiar face nearby; everyone knows Mormont has pampered him since he was discovered to be the Avatar reborn—thanks, in no small amount, to Maester Aemon.

Speaking of the maester, Jon allows himself to hug him that night. He knows by now most ranges last around two weeks, and Aemon is old enough now for him to fear he might not be alive upon his return—even though _this_ specific range is meant to last only a few days. Not that he's _actually_ scared; blindness and joint pains aside, the oldest Targaryen has always been incredibly healthy for a man nearing a century old. _Staying out of political and family stuff has done him good_ , he assumes. _I wish I had that luxury… now I can only hope I didn't inherit my grandfather's_ — _and my father's_ — _madness._

Despite what uncle Ned claims, he deems his natural father a bit mad. Aemon once told him about the letters they exchanged regarding the prophecies about the Avatar, and how the prince was convinced _he_ was going to bring the Avatar to the world. He turned out to be _right_ , of course, and his intentions might even have been _noble_ , but the way he did things… Either Rhaegar was slightly mad, or he was immensely _stupid_. Given he was Aerys' son, and given his reported love for books and art, Jon believes it was the former case.

His uncle, who witnessed his mother's last moments, believes there was affection between his parents. "She was a little infatuated with him while we were in Harrenhal", he once told him. "I never ruled out the possibility that she went willingly."

From Jon's perspective—one born out of growing up among men who took celibacy vows (even if they didn't always obey them) and gave up family and titles for duty—it doesn't excuse his father's actions, and he told uncle Ned as much. "He was the _heir prince_ , and _already_ married, not to mention Mother was promised to the current king. He _should_ have known his actions would have serious consequences. If he was so convinced he had to… bed an icebender to fulfill the prophecy, why didn't he just establish a secret affair between them? Or find a way to set her betrothal aside and take her as second wife, something that _had_ happened before in Targaryen history? Or find _another_ icebender to bed, one that was _not_ married or engaged? Why did he _whisk Mother away_ to a _tower_ in the middle of _Dorne_ to _impregnate_ her and leave her hidden for the _entire_ rebellion? And _why_ , when the time came to pick sides, he fought for his mad father instead of, say, using the rebellion to show everyone he was a good candidate for the throne? People already held in a high regard, according to what _you_ told me. They might have even believed his prophecy rambling if he promoted himself as the ideal king. But _no_ , he took the Mad King's side and further fucked things up. You may try, but you won't convince me my father was a sane and sensible man."

He remembers aunt Catelyn's chuckle. "You really thought long about this", she said.

He nodded, blushing slightly. "I know quite a lot about Mother, thanks to my uncles' stories, but I can only imagine what kind of man Father was. I want to believe he was a _good_ man, but… looking at the things he _did_ , it's hard to believe he was everything people have tried to tell me he was."

On his next visit, uncle Ned said he ended up agreeing with Jon, and claimed he was likely fated to be a better man the Rhaegar was—regardless of his status as Avatar—if only because he has far more common sense as a young man than the prince had as a fully grown adult.

All those memories make it a bit harder for him to fall asleep that night, but he tries to think of boring stuff—like House sigils—so he can actually _rest_ before he leaves. It eventually works, though he's still yawning when Mormont calls them. Along with his uncle and the Lord Commander himself, other twenty black brothers are to go in this range. Jon suppresses a smile and tries to hide his excitement about being among them.

He has known most of these men since childhood, with the occasional exception of a new ranger who has shown promise enough to be sent on this range. Half of them are former criminals who took the black to avoid death, which means they are not _that_ keen on keeping their vows and acting nobly. Jon usually avoids them; some are kind of nice, but he doesn't want to _befriend_ them and risk giving them an excuse to approach aunt Catelyn, Sansa or Arya when they visit.

The other half is made of good men, who joined the Night's Watch for several personal reasons: noblemen who were not going to inherit titles or lands and felt they'd be more useful on the Wall, common folk who saw an opportunity to _not_ starve to death, boys who have heard stories of the Night's Watch heroic reputation… Those are the ones Jon sits with and talks to the most, even if many of them are old enough to be his grandfathers. Those are the ones he sticks closer to, when the gates open and they officially set foot beyond the Wall.

The first thing he notices is that the wind seems stronger and colder. He tells as much to Jarman Buckwell, who agrees. "And it's gotten colder over recent years", he adds, raising an eyebrow at him. Jon looks down to his horse. _Winter is coming_ , it's House Stark's words, and it rings truer than ever, in many ways. _My mission will be known anytime now. Am I ready for it?_

He's willing to guess he _isn't_. He may be an excellent firebender, but he's mediocre at waterbending, and there is no one in the Night's Watch who bends earth or air to teach him. _I won't be surprised if Lord Mormont sends me away after this to find earthbending and airbending teachers. Yoren often marches South to look for those, but always comes empty-handed. Southerners are not fond of the Night's Watch as Northerners are._ There is a Royce among the lastest crows, but he's a non bender, so he doesn't really count.

The first hours are uneventful; only wind and snow welcome them—he bends some snow away to clear his vision, but not much, since Mormont doesn't waste _his_ energy on the effort, neither will he. Then, from a distance, he sees the silhouette of… "Houses?", he wonders aloud.

At his side, he hears Jarman say, "Aye. It's a wildling village. Nothing for us there, though."

He remembers Mormont debriefing them on their route. They'd go first through a few villages, then they'd stop at Craster's Keep—he heard some things about the man, none of which he liked—where they'd gather information on the King-beyond-the-Wall, Mance Rayder (a deserter of the Night's Watch, if he remembers correctly). It is the Lord Commander's main goal with this range—that and prepare some of the newer rangers for this kind of trip. If they don't get enough intel from Craster, they'll likely go as far as Fist of the First Men, from where experienced rangers will try to find the aforementioned king's current settlement.

As they approach said village, he notices the houses are round-shaped and made of ice and snow. "Igloos", his uncle offers upon seeing his confused face. "The free folk are experienced enough to build houses with icebending, strong enough to endure the wind. They have wooden houses, though. Look." He then points at a small one built at the base of a heart tree. It's covered in snow, but he can make out its shape fine.

Some people can be seen from the windows, but aside from a passing curiosity, they don't mind their passing. He asks his uncle if this village has a name, and he says it's called Whitetree. Not very original, but then again, uncle Ned is warden of an entire region called simply 'The North'—not to mention the capital was named _King's Landing_. Whoever was in charge of naming places in Westeros suffered from a complete lack of creativity.

They reach Craster's Keep by night. It's a big wooden house, covered in snow like the village's, but there is a fence surrounding it, marking a small piece of land, akin to a farm. Sitting atop of the fence lie the skulls of a ram and a bear—he doesn't want to know the story behind them.

They are welcomed by a woman whose form indicates a midterm pregnancy, if his memories of Aunt Catelyn's pregnancies—she has visited him while carrying Arya, Bran and Rickon—are correct. They dismount their horses and leave them to rest outside, and enter the house.

Its inside is humble. There are no walls separating rooms, only precariously built—and seemingly splintery—ladders that lead to a narrow floor above. The entrance features a number of benches, most of which are occupied by women of various ages. Some are breastfeeding, and he quickly notices there are no boys there. He opens his mouth to ask about it, but refrains himself when a gray-haired man stands up from a chair—the only he can see from where he's standing—and introduces himself as Craster. He is a man of few words, and soon they are dismissed to do as they please.

At first, Jon contemplates following Mormont and listening to his conversation with Craster, but decides against it and stays on his uncle's side instead. When he is sure they are out of anyone's hearing reach, he whispers, "Are there no boys here?" Uncle shakes his head, but doesn't explain, claiming it's better to do so _after_ they leave the keep. Something tells him the answer is utterly unpleasant.

Later in the evening, he is called by Mormont, who introduces him to Craster as the Avatar. "Finally you crows start believing in magic beyond bending, huh", he comments. "Maybe _now_ you'll believe me when I say the gods are coming." Jon frowns, but the Lord Commander hand waves, as if telling him to forget about it. Their interaction is brief—Craster doesn't look impressed to witness the Avatar reborn, which is a refreshing change—and soon Jon busies himself with cooking.

Using fire and heat for cooking is an ability Jon developed all by himself as a child. Maester Aemon once told him such a delicate heat control was a talent only Grand firebending Masters held. "Then why am I not even a Master?", he had asked then, only a child of seven.

"We can't draw attention to you, my boy", the old man explained. He already had an idea of the danger surrounding his true identity, so Aemon spoke freely. "Imagine what King Robert would think if found out about a seven-year-old master firebender."

 _I won't ever get a master title now_ , he realizes, _since mastering all elements is expected from me. People will be surprised by the fact that I'm the Avatar instead._ He wonders if his status would be enough to save him if King Robert found out his best friend's bastard is actually the son of his dead archenemy.

After supper, he plays a little with the babies—all girls, he notices—and falls asleep on the cold floor, near one of the youngest women. He is woken up by Dolorous Edd's shaking of his shoulder. "C'mon, Lord Avatar", he says dryly, "we have a long way ahead."

They bid their 'thank you's and farewells to Craster and the women. A few minutes after they get back on the 'road', his uncle is by his side. "We don't have concrete proof", he begins, "but it is widely said that Craster offers his baby sons to… well, they call them 'ice demons'. The girls… he waits until they flower to take them to bed. All his daughters become his wives and bear his children."

He tries to hide his disgust; he's not entirely sure he succeeds. The rest of the journey to the Fist of the First Men is rather quiet on his part. Mormont tells the party what he gathered from Craster and a few women. "Mance Rayder is leading a big group of wildling to the Wall. He plans to use brute force to overpower us and cross the Wall. He has all kinds of waterbenders in his party, including bloodbenders, so we must prepare."

 _If we must prepare_ , he wonders, _why don't we go back now?_ Depending on how skilled those bloodbenders are, they are in great danger. He has met a bloodbender once, when uncle Ned brought Theon Greyjoy to visit him. Poor boy wasn't very talented, which was understandable given he barely had time to train before he was taken hostage. Still, he was able to move Jon's arm, and he said he could sense everyone's heartbeat if he wanted. "It's useful when you wonder whether a person is dead", he said at the time, half-joking, half-serious.

When night comes, it's too dark to keep moving safely, so Jon lights a campfire while the rest arm their tents. He is to share one with his uncle and Buckwell after his watch shift ends—he is to stay awake for the first few hours, along with Mormont, Edd and Ser Mallador Locke. The latter two ask him for bending tricks to entertain themselves, which evolves to a tiny and tired snowball fight between him and the Lord Commander, with the other two providing unrequired tips.

"This is pathetic", Mormont declares after throwing one last ball on Jon's head. "I'm too old for this."

"You're still a master snowbender, my lord", Jon points out, not bothering making a snowball of his own. The old man snorts, but gives no reply. Moments later, Buckwell leaves the tent, along with Ulmer and Small Paul, and he goes inside, falling asleep quickly.

In the morning, he wakes up thirsty and tries to condense water to drink. It takes a while, and he only manages a few drops—too few to placate his thirst—but it's better than the usual nothing. His uncle chuckles and condenses a slightly bigger amount, offering it to him. "Thank you", he says as he motions the water to come to his mouth.

He's on a useless discussion about the ice cells with Benjen and Ulmer when someone shouts, "Wildlings!" He motions to grab Longclaw—he had considered leaving it at the Wall, but Mormont asked if he was as mad as his grandfather, so he changed his mind and brought it along—and, after contemplating for five seconds, lights it up. _Let them see the Night's Watch has a firebender among them_ , he concludes as he moves closer to the front. _Let them see the Avatar._ It sounds a lot braver than he's actually feeling, but hey, maybe he can convince himself if he tries hard enough.

A big man, made even bigger by the amount of furs covering him, rides ahead of the whole group. "Mance", he hears Mormont say, disdain clear in his voice.

The King-beyond-the-Wall smirks. "Long time we don't see, Jeor", he replies flippantly. "Long enough that you found a firebender willing to freeze his balls in the Night's Watch." At that, he looks directly at Jon and his fire sword. Mormont glances at him and raises an eyebrow, as if saying, 'Really?'. He manages not to pout at that. For someone who seems to focus so much on the fact he is the damn _Avatar_ , the Lord Commander has quite a talent to look utterly unimpressed at anything he does.

But then the old man turns back to Mance Rayder and says, "He's actually the Avatar. Born a firebender, yes, but not just that. Show him, boy."

 _What? He reveals me to the wildlings just like that? What happened to secrecy?_ Regardless, Jon put the fire out of his sword with a hand wave and, as he touches the sword, it freezes all over. It's not an impressive trick, he knows, but it's enough to show he can bend opposing elements. He tears his eyes off the sword and looks back at the two men. Mormont's face doesn't change; he's used to this.

Mance, on the other hand, is staring at him with wide eyes. He briefly turns to the group behind him, who look ready to fight, and shouts, "They have the _Avatar_ with them!" Voices erupt from the party, and although he can't understand what they say, he assumes they are as shocked as… well, as everyone is when first told Jon is the Avatar. For a moment, he wonders if Mormont hasn't planned this all along. But for what purpose?

Mance's demeanor, once irreverent, turns serious, almost solemn. "If he's the Avatar, I take he's not a crow, then", he tells Mormont. "Then why bring him here with you?"

"He needs to know what lies beyond the Wall", the Lord Commander replies immediately. "Besides… he's lacking a waterbender teacher."

Jon's eyes widen. _Is he suggesting what I think he is?_ He has heard Mance Rayder is a skilled waterbender, something that is lacking among the black brothers, but to think that Mormont would go such great lengths to provide him a waterbending instructor…

Mance catches on that too. "I won't teach him for free", he replies, nearly hissing. "He may be the Avatar, but I demand a price."

"Name it", Mormont replies, but Jon senses he already knows what said price will be.

Mance does not disappoint. "Safe passage through the Wall for my people. Winter has come to these lands, Jeor, and it's harsher than ever. We can't find enough food, and people are already starting to die."

Jon expects Mormont to fight or negotiate. After all, one of the Wall's functions is to block the wildling. But the old man just nods. "Your people are to settle at the Gift", he declares. "Not further south."

Mance's eyebrows raise; he is as surprised as Jon. He turns back to see mixed reactions from the others. _He_ has _planned this_ , he realizes when he sees his uncle's neutral expression. _And if he is so quick to offer the Gift's lands, he might have already spoken to a lord about it. Perhaps uncle Ned; he'd be the easiest to persuade._ Finally, the King-beyond-the-Wall speaks. "Fair enough. You might give us a day to organize."

Mormont nods, and Mance turns back to his people. The Lord Commander orders them to head back to the Wall. "Our mission is done", he says, looking directly at Jon.

In a seemingly silent agreement, everyone waits until the wildlings are out of sight to ask questions. Clearly Mormont did not disclose his plans to _all_ black brothers, and some are confused—and even outraged—by this turn of events.

"We've all known about the situation beyond the Wall these last three years", the Lord Commander says after they set camp again. "And we've felt it in our home as well. This winter is not natural, and it means a threat is coming to us. The wildlings believe the Others are to come back at any moment. The fewer of them are out there, the fewer are available to be killed and brought back as wights, if we are to trust old tales. Besides", he glances at Jon, "whatever threat might be coming at us, we need our Avatar ready to face them. Having a bunch of wildlings settling at the Gift seems a small price to pay for it."

It is clear not everyone agrees—hells, _he_ doesn't know if he agrees—but the Lord Commander's words are final, so nobody complains for the rest of the journey. The only one who brings the subject up again is Jon himself, and it's only to ask if any lord is aware of the plan. "Your uncle, of course", he replies, just as he predicted. "I wrote to Lord Stark about my plan, and he gave me permission, on the condition that we do our best to keep their settlement a secret from other lords. We might not be able to hide from Last Hearth and the Umbers, but if we play our cards right, not even the Boltons will find out unless they _come_ to the Wall, something that hasn't happened in centuries." He spares a glance at him. "I'm not worried, and it's worth the risk. Mance's group is full of benders, which will be useful not only for you, but for the Night's Watch as well. The free folk may disagree with us in many things, and we'll likely never be _friendly_ towards one another, but anything that threatens us will threaten _them_ too. When the time comes, we'll need all the allies we can get."

 _He speaks as if the threat is already on its way_ , he notices. _I hope it's not. I'm not ready at all._

Nightmares plague him that night, when they again sleep at Craster's. They don't seem his own, though.

_A herd hurries closer and closer. He stands tall, feet apart from one another, and raises his sword. Only it's not a sword. In both hands, he holds… fans? What is the meaning of this?_

_His body knows, even if his mind doesn't, for he raises his hands and makes sharp circling movements. As he does, the earth around him erupts, creating huge blocks of ice and land. It stops some of the invaders, but not all. They are still coming._

_With the fans, he conjures a fire circle. Odd; he doesn't remember ever doing it before. Oblivious to his mind's turmoil, his body pushes the fire circle forward. It burns some, but not all. As they come closer, he can make out their forms. They look like they were human once, but now are twisted and disfigured beyond recognition. Their skins are pale and… icy? There is no other way to describe it. In a way, they look like harsh winter, and death._

_More pieces of land erupt. Huge snowballs are thrown. Fire is lit up on the ground. Rain falls, and strong winds blow. All by his hands and his fans. It not enough. They reach him anyway._

He wakes up with a gasp after that last nightmare. It's the clearest in his memory. What was that? _I'll talk to Maester Aemon about it when we get back._

Overnight, the wildlings have reached them, for they are waiting outside when he comes out. He says nothing as they join the party heading to the Wall, busy as he is replaying the nightmare on his head to assure he'll remember as much as possible to tell the maester.

He is not really left alone, however. A female voice can be heard behind him. "Hey, Lord Avatar!", she exclaims. "Catch this!" Before he can even turn in her direction, a snowball hits him, full force. He bends it away and turns to find a red-haired girl smirking. "Lord Avatar can't even catch a snowball. Why does Mance say you are the world's savior?"

He sighs. "I don't know the answer", he admits. "I was just born like this. Didn't really ask to be Avatar. If _someone_ had asked me beforehand, I'd have said no." It's not a secret that he doesn't enjoy being the Avatar, and would rather have stayed as a firebender. Uncle Benjen likes to remind him of when he first icebent, but he always claims that younger Jon was a fool.

She hums. "It should be _cool_ , being the Avatar", she replies, "but you make it sound lame."

He chuckles. "Maybe _I'm_ lame", he offers. "You wouldn't be the first one to say it." Robb and Arya don't waste any opportunity to call him 'lame' or 'stupid'. Sansa never does it, but she looks at him with amusement, and he's sure she mentally agrees with her siblings. Bran is too young for that kind of judgement. "I'm Jon Frost, by the way."

"Ygritte", she replies with a grin. "Just Ygritte. We don't have last names like you kneelers."

He wants to take offense at her words, but honestly, 'kneelers' is not a _wrong_ word. "What do you do when two people share a name, then?", he asks instead.

She frowns. "We don't repeat names", she answers. "Not while the other person is alive, at least. It's stupid to have more than one person with the same name."

"But that's because you have few people", he says. "There are more people south of the Wall than names available."

"Make up new ones, then. You southerners are still stupid. Overcomplicate things."

He half-chuckles, half-sighs. This Ygritte girl reminds him of Arya—which may _not_ be that good of a thing, but perhaps he can find a friend among the wildlings, not just teachers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are coming close to canon's time! If anyone is lost, this chapter is set in 295, three years before canon saga starts.  
> Next chapter will feature another time skip as we reach canon time. We'll see Winterfell and be introduced to more characters. And, if this story is already different from canon, it'll stray even more hahahaha  
> Don't worry, Ygritte and the wildlings won't be forgotten.  
> Stay tuned!


	4. Cersei I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The royal family visits Winterfell, and Cersei's life takes a very unexpected turn.

When they arrive at Winterfell, all Cersei wants is to find a bed to _sleep_ on. She doesn't even want Jaime; only a dreamless sleep. Sadly, it's still morning, so she likely won't be allowed for more than a nap.

It doesn't help that she seems to be the _only_ tired person around—elders aside, of course. Her husband shows a child-like excitement to see his friend, her children are as energetic as they usually are—even Myrcella, who by now has learned to behave ladylike—and her brothers are staring at Winterfell castle wide-eyed, something her sleepy eyes can't manage to do, even if she tries to pretend.

Standing up helps wake her up a little, enough to pay attention to Lord Stark's greeting and introduction to his family: Catelyn Stark, his wife, formerly Tully, a healer; Robb, his firstborn (legitimately speaking, at least—she can't remember whether his bastard is older or younger), a waterbender; Sansa, his oldest daughter, an icebender (though she's trained in the healing arts like her mother); Arya, a waterbender (it is not said whether she's a healer or fighter); Bran and Rickon, icebenders.

Jon Frost is seemingly nowhere to be seen. She remembers he is a non bender, which might have fueled Eddard's shame. At least _Robert's_ bastards are all benders, even if not all of them bend earth like their father. _Oh, well_ , she thinks, _one less person to greet, one less obstacle between me and my guest chambers._

They _are_ allowed a moment of rest before noon. Jaime tries to slip inside her chambers, but she shoves him out. "I need my sleep", she simply says. He huffs but doesn't protest, leaving as silently as he came in. Thanking the Seven for being granted a room separate from her husband, she ungraciously throws herself in the bed, falling asleep immediately.

A knock on the door wakes her. It's a servant, one from Winterfell, announcing lunch is ready. She thanks the girl and closes the door. She had left all her stuff unpacked, and now has to pay the price for it. _My face is likely puffy from sleep_ , she realizes, and sighs. Well, she's queen; she can afford to show up a bit late.

Eventually, she finds a gown suitable for the cold weather. Now that she's fully awake, she can't help but chill at the wind that comes from the window. _Is the Citadel sure winter has not come yet?_ Then again, such coldness might be the norm in the North. _It would explain the rigid men and the frigid women._ She takes a lion-shaped metallic hair pin and, for a moment, considers changing its shape to a wolf, to appeal to her hosts. _It will take too long_ , she decides, simply fixing her hair with it, _and there is a limit for tardiness, even for queens_.

She enters the dining hall just in time to hear Joffrey boasting about his metalbending. "I could break this entire's castle's foundation if I wanted", he proclaims, and she half-sighs, half-grins. Her firstborn is not _that_ talented, but he could do some damage if he so desired; she knows him enough to realize he _may_ try to do it, especially if one of the Starks challenges him. It falls to her hands to prevent such a disaster.

"You absolutely could, my darling", she says, loud enough for him to hear while keeping a courteous tone. "But we wouldn't want the castle's ceiling to fall on our heads, would we?"

Joffrey turns to her with wide eyes. "Mother", he says, "you've joined us."

She smiles sweetly. "Of course", she replies, moving forward to take a seat at Robert's left. "And _I_ would be displeased if this ceiling fell on my head because my son was feeling too playful."

Joffrey glares at her, but dares not answer and resumes eating. From the corner of her eye, she sees Lady Stark sighing in relief. She turns to the food in front of her, feeling hunger rise, and serves herself.

Robert spends the whole meal laughing, talking loudly—and dirty—and making her regret her marriage even further—so, being his usual self. Lord Stark laughs along, but his laugh is much quieter, and even when he japes he's polite. _He would've made for a far more pleasant husband_ , she thinks. _Perhaps I'd even have stood to bear a child of his, even if I stayed with Jaime._ Eddard might be better than Robert, but the only man who ever swayed her attention for her twin was the late prince Rhaegar. _He'd have never looked at the she-wolf twice, had he married me instead of Elia Martell. The most beautiful woman in Westeros and a skilled self-taught metalbender. What else could he have wanted? Robert should've been the one to die at the Trident. Rhaegar should have burned him; he was too noble for it, of course, but he paid a high price._ She remembers hearing about how Robert killed him: he erupted a rock from the ground and smashed Rhaegar with it.

She stays silent for most of the meal, occasionally answering to Lady Stark's courteous questions: how was her journey? How are things in King's Landing? How is her father, Lord Tywin? Her gown is beautiful, did she make it herself?

When her husband asks for Lord Stark to show him the crypts of Winterfell—certainly to visit his deceased former betrothed—Lady Stark calls her oldest children to show the castle to the visitors, now that they are all rested and well fed. She has no interest in the place, but puts on her most charming smile as she follows Robb and Sansa Stark around.

The two children seem to take notice of her lack of interest, though, and make the tour brief. They walk through a few corridors—not all of them. "They're all chambers", Sansa explains when Myrcella asks why they're skipping some, "not much to see."

They reach the training yard, and it's Robb's turn to talk. "We have regular fighting training as well as bending training", he says. "We had to fetch teachers from other Houses to teach waterbending, since Arya and I are the first waterbenders born in the Stark family in centuries, but we are in no shortage of icebenders."

She frowns at his mention of his other sister. Waterbender women are usually trained in the healing arts, and Lady Stark is known as a skilled healer. _Perhaps Arya trains in fighting abilities too_ , she ponders. _Perhaps Sansa is also trained in both_. She doesn't ask, though, and no one else does either.

They go back to the dining hall soon after leaving the training yard. "There are the crypts", Sansa says, "but Father is already down there with the King. If any of you wants to go there afterwards, just fetch any of us." With that, Robb excuses himself, and Lady Stark comes back. Tyrion approaches Sansa, and the two seemingly engage in a conversation about Winterfell history.

Less than half an hour later, Lord Stark is back with her husband, who announces they are going hunting in the woods. She fakes a mild malaise and manages to leave herself out of the hunting party, while her brother successfully convinces Robert he needs to stay behind as Kingsguard. "The Queen should not be left unattended", he claims, and the king dismisses them both with a careless hand wave.

Lady Stark wishes her better health, and she excuses herself, Jaime following closely behind. The corridors are empty; people are already gathering for the hunt. It's too easy to slip inside an abandoned tower. Jaime, who has been quiet the entire walk, almost as if he wasn't there, slips a hand on her lower waist as they climb the stairs. She smirks as he bites her ear, and he barely waits for the door behind them to close before kissing her hungrily.

He misses her as much as she misses him—perhaps even more, if she allows herself to think deep about her feelings and his. Now, though, there is no _thinking_ , only _feeling_ as they hurriedly, but quietly, get rid of their clothes. She closes her eyes as he goes down her body, but opens in a flash when she hears a sound of steps.

A boy is standing outside the _window_. On the _top_ of the tower. A part of her wonders _how_ he got there, while the rest is busy realizing the boy is _Bran Stark_. She gasps, and the boy gasps back. Jaime notices it and stands up abruptly, turning around, blocking her vision.

She doesn't know what is happening until it's too late, and Jaime all but shouts. He hurries to the window, which allows her to notice Bran is _not_ there anymore. Instead, a metallic spear erupts from the side of the window. _Are there iron bars inside these walls?_ , she briefly wonders, then quickly shoves the thought aside. "What did you do?", she hisses at Jaime.

He turns, eyes wide. "The boy _scared_ me! I didn't _mean_ to push him, or metalbend him down!"

"Aren't you supposed to be a master bender? How did you do it by _accident_?"

"Like I said, he _scared_ me. It was self defense." He looks down, and she follows his gaze. She can't see the boy, but she doesn't really want to. "What do we do now?"

She turns to him. "We act normally, of course", she replies. "No one can know we were here. We go and pretend we are as lost as everyone else to what happened. I'm sure you can do that."

He nods and turns to dress himself back. "We must slip back to the main castle unnoticed", he says, more to himself than to her. She dresses up along with him, and they leave the tower as silently as they came in.

They soon hear shouting coming from outside the castle. "You'll go", she whispers to Jaime, "I'm supposed to be sick." He nods and turns to follow the shouting, while she slips inside the tower she should have gone to all along. _This wouldn't have happened if we had just gone to my chambers_ , she thinks. _No one would come to bother us anyway. It was an unnecessary precaution._ She's sorry for the kid, of course—especially if he ends up dying—but, frankly, she's more worried about the possibility they get caught. _It's a small one_ , she decides as she closes her chambers' doors. _For all they know, Bran Stark tripped all by himself._

She repeats that thought a couple more times before lying on her bed, deciding on waiting at least a full hour before leaving to 'find out what happened'—that is, if Jaime doesn't handle the situation in time. _Everything is fine_ , she tells herself.

* * *

It is nighttime when she visits Bran Stark, who now lies unconscious. His mother is with him, obviously, and so is a young boy who strongly resembles Lord Stark—it must be his bastard. "Lady Stark", she greets the woman.

Catelyn turns her eyes from her son to her. "Your Grace", she replies, voice low. "It's kind of you to come visit."

She gives her a sweet, sad smile. "Of course", she says. "It's tragic, what happened to your son. The least I could do is give my condolences." As she approaches the boy's bed, it is inevitable to acknowledge the other one, so she speaks first. "You are…?"

He bows a little. "Jon Frost, Your Grace." So he _is_ the bastard. She nods and turns to look at Bran. The boy looks like he's merely asleep. "What did your maester say?"

"He'll live", Lady Stark replies, "but he can't guarantee anything else."

Cersei nods, and for a while everyone is silent. Jon Frost excuses himself out of the room. She turns to the other woman. "Doesn't it bother you", she asks, "to have him here?"

Catelyn blinks. "Not anymore", she replies after a few seconds. "Jon is… kind to my children. He never let his status stop him from genuinely loving them. I can't resent someone who cares for my children as strongly as he does." There is some fondness in her voice, which surprises her. She has never expected a highborn lady to have a good relationship with her husband's bastard, but whatever Lord Stark did seemed to have worked in Jon Frost's favor.

 _Then again, I've heard rumours the boy doesn't live here_. Some claim he was raised beyond the Wall, among wilding. While she doubts that's the exact case, perhaps Lady Stark hadn't been forced to see the boy everyday.

A servant comes to announce dinnertime. She offers Catelyn to watch over her son while she grabs something to eat, but the lady politely refuses. "One of his siblings will come with food. Thank you for your kindness, though, Your Grace."

She then leaves the room and heads to the dinner hall. She offers her condolences to Lord Stark and any of his children she comes across—essentially, Sansa and Robb. Robert busies himself with food and bold proclamations that he'll compensate for what happened to Bran Stark, while her brothers have quietly retreated to a corner. She might not like seeing Jaime with Tyrion, but she supposed it's a strategic decision, to avoid drawing attention to himself. Upon sitting on her husband's side, she finds herself almost wishing she could join the duo. _As if Tyrion and I would be able to hold an entire conversation without cursing each other_ , she reminds herself, _which would lead to Jaime trying to appease to us, which would lead to_ all three _of us mad at one another._ Being mad at Tyrion is standard at this point, but she has no desire to fight with her twin, especially not in Winterfell.

She's helping Tommen pick his food when a guard approaches Lord Stark—who is sitting across her—and murmurs something. He excuses himself and stands up, leaving the hall hurriedly. Robert offers to follow, but Eddard claims it's not needed, even though he's clearly tense. _Perhaps something happened to his son_ , she thinks, unsure of what outcome would be most beneficial to her.

Lord Stark comes back not much longer later, marching as if he's going to war. His face alone is enough to make her tense, though she hides it. The Warden of the North stops abruptly in front of her husband. "How many metalbenders came with you?", he asks, his voice sending shivers down her spine. _Oh, no._

She tries to think of a way out, but Robert answers before she can come up with anything. "Only two. Cersei and Ser Jaime." _Fuck._

Eddard stares at her with murder in his eyes. Then he raises his head to search the crowd—likely looking for Jaime, but she won't let herself look anywhere but to the lord's face. Eventually, he calls for silence. "As you all know", he begins, "my son Brandon Stark has fallen from the First Keep and is currently comatose. At first, we all deemed it to be an accident, but, while searching the Keep to find what could have led my son to trip and fall, they found evidence that his fall may have been caused by someone." He takes a deep breath, and she holds her. "A metal spike was found in a window at the top of the tower. Its appearance makes it clear it was work by a human. By a _metalbender_ , more precisely. And there are only two metalbenders among us: Queen Cersei Baratheon and Ser Jaime Lannister of the Kingsguard."

Half of the crowd turns to her, her husband among them; the other half turns to her brother. They want answers; _they want blood_. "I was bedridden all afternoon, my lord", she says. "You might remember I excused myself after lunch, before you left for hunting, and Ser Jaime guarded me. He only left when he heard shouting; that's how I found out what happened to your son."

Only then she dared turn to look at her twin. He had a hand on Tyrion's shoulder, as if their conversation had been abruptly interrupted. "The Queen tells the truth", he says matter-of-factly. "Besides, I've heard Bran Stark fell from an _abandoned_ tower, which is clearly not the case of the Keep Her Grace was in all afternoon."

Some people seem to relax at those words, but not Lord Stark. "I wish to believe your words. However, there's been suspicious reports coming from servants. Some claim to have caught sight of two people slipping in and out of the First Keep, of similar height and frame, around the time they heard my son's body hitting the ground."

She stares at him, doing her best to ignore her husband's glare _and_ her increasing heartbeat. "I don't like what you are implying, my lord. Why would Ser Jaime and I go to an abandoned tower?"

Robert snorts, drawing her eyes to him. He's looking at her with disgust, more so than usual. "What's your defense, _Cersei_? There are signs of a metalbending in a tower that hasn't been visited in _years_ , maybe _decades_. All signs point to you and your beloved _Kingslayer_. What do any of you have to say for yourselves?"

"You are going to just believe his word?", she retorts. "Without seeing the supposed damage for yourself? I find it very _suspicious_ that he didn't ask for your presence to see this evidence he speaks of."

"You are free to follow me to the Keep", Lord Stark says calmly. Robert stands up immediately and orders her and Jaime to follow him. She does as told, and soon she hears her brother's footsteps behind her—though not as closely behind as usual.

She tries to act too familiar with the way to the tower, or with the stairs, or with the room itself. _Jaime should have bent the spike back inside the wall. We should have thought of it before leaving so hurriedly._ The spike is, obviously, the way they left it. "This proves nothing", she finds her voice to say. "Ser Jaime and I may be the only metalbenders here _now_ , but surely there were others before. This is likely an old spike."

"The last metalbender to come to Winterfell did so years ago", Lord Stark replies instantly. "This spike has no signs of deterioration. Its making is recent. Besides", he reaches for his breaches and pulls something out of a pocket, "the guards found this here."

Her eyes widen before she can conceal her expression. A golden hair pin, with a small lion engraved on it. It had been a gift from her uncle Kevan on her twenty-first name day. _There is no way out of this_ , she realizes. _We are doomed._

Robert laughs, and it startles her. Not only has she never expected him to _laugh_ at all of this, he does it in a cruel fashion, one she hasn't seen since he called Rhaegar's children dragonspawn. "Of _damn_ course", he says, "I should have noticed it _years_ ago. Fancy yourself a _dragon_ , my wife? Fucking your own _twin_ behind my back?"

It takes a huge effort to keep a straight face. "I fail to see how this hair pin proves an… affair between me and Ser Jaime. At best, it implies we were both here at some point. Nothing else."

"The pin itself proves little", Lord Stark agrees, "but, combined with all evidence, says a lot. Tell me, Your Grace… are your children really the king's, or are they your brother's?"

 _No. Not my children. You won't drag them into this._ "You accuse me of throwing your son out of the window, and now you accuse me of posing bastard children as legitimate? Do you forget you are speaking to the Queen?"

"Well, woman", Robert spats, "you are speaking to the new Hand of the King!" He huffs. "Did you know, Cersei, that my bastards are my splitting image? One look at Edric and Mya, you know they are mine. Not to mention they earthbend, despite the utter lack of earthbenders in their mothers' families. But not Joffrey, or Myrcella, or Tommen. They are _your_ splitting image, and they metalbend just like you." He laughs for a short while. "Of course, if the father is your own male version, this is bound to happen, huh?"

She grimaces and opens her mouth to argue, but Jaime beats her. "Yes", he says calmly, as if he isn't admitting to treason. "Cersei's children are not yours. They are mine. And yes, we were here when Bran fell. He caught us. But he wasn't pushed on purpose." He walks to the window and touches the spike. "I'm not sure how much either of you know about metalbending, but spikes are not a master bender's work. Not a _thought out_ one, at least." He turns to Lord Stark. "It was an _accident_. Your son scared us, scared _me_ , and the spike came in self-defense. I would _never_ do such a thing on purpose, even to keep a secret."

She feels her blood boil, and for a moment she contemplates metalbending that spike straight into Jaime's heart—and then Eddard's and Robert's, just in case. Of course, such actions would not go unnoticed, so she refrains herself—it's more than Jaime did earlier that day—and remains silent as her husband orders them to be taken to the dungeon cells. "You'll both be executed tomorrow for treason", he announces.

* * *

"I had it under control", she hisses when they are alone. Robert had told his friend to send guards, but so far none have appeared. Not that it matters; their hands are tied, and the bars are made of ice, earth and metal—one has to bend all three elements to escape, and it's not like either of them are the _Avatar reborn_ to do such a thing. "But you _had_ to play guilty and spill the truth."

Her twin snorts. "Oh, you had it under control?", he retorts. "We were already fucked, Cersei. Servants saw us, your _hair pin_ was on the floor, and the biggest evidence was in that damn window."

"Why tell them about the children?", she asks, venom in every word. "Eddard only said that to taunt us, you could have just admitted to Bran's fall."

He shakes his head. "You didn't hear? Robert pierced it all together as soon as Stark said the words. For all we know, he has suspected it already. If we insisted the children were his, he'd only spend the rest of his days wondering if the children are truly his, and without us around I fear for what he may do—or order others to do, since he doesn't like getting his blood dirty." He grimaces at that, and for a moment she remembers Jaime saw the bodies of Elia, Aegon and Rhaenys—a sight she was spared of. "If we are going to die, we should at least give the children an escape. Have them bastardized and sent to the Rock."

There is no reply to that; he's _right_. Realization dawns on her; tomorrow, not only Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen will become bastards, they'll be orphans too. Only a grandfather and an uncle to take care of them, and the eternal shame of their origin on their shoulders. _What have I done?_ , she thinks, feeling her breath quicken. _I should have tried to bear_ one _child from that man. One would be enough; nobody would look twice at my children with Jaime if there was a stag running around._ The mere thought of giving birth to a half-stag, instead of a pure lion like her children, makes her want to puke, but it would have been a safety measure. _I doubt I'd love this child, but at least the ones I love would have their place assured in King's Landing, as princes and princesses._

Of course, none of that would have spared them from being caught. She turns back to Jaime. "This is all your fault", she spats. "You should have gotten rid of that spike when you had the chance!"

He grimaces. "Oh, it's all _my_ fault, then? Whose idea was it to sneak inside an abandoned Keep? Whose hair pin was laying on the floor when Stark's guards got in the room?" He tilts his head, and she sees the ghost of a smirk. "You'll die tomorrow anyway, sweet sister. At least take some credit for your own beheading."

She opens her mouth to reply, but stops herself when she hears footsteps approaching them. She expects to see guards, but the torch reveals Jon Frost's face. He nods at her and at Jaime in separate times. "Your Grace. Ser."

She chuckles dryly as she notices Eddard behind the boy. "What are you doing here? Came to say goodbye? To rub our crimes in our faces?"

Jon Frost shakes his head. "It was an accident. We know it." He briefly glances at his father and turns back to them. "We came here to… ask a few questions. Nothing much."

"That's an odd way to announce an interrogation", her brother says nonchalantly.

Jon shakes his head again. "I've heard you are a master metalbender, Ser."

Jaime snorts. "I used to be", he replies, "but your father surely must have told you. I lost my master title when I earned my Kingslayer one."

"But it was purely out of dishonor, right?", the boy asks, as if it was a small thing. "I suppose your skills didn't lessen."

"Of course not. If anything, they improved over the years. I'm still Kingsguard."

He nods, seemingly satisfied, and turns to look at Cersei. "What are your skills, Your Grace? If you don't mind me asking."

She chuckles. She's marked for death, and a bastard wants to know about her bending skills? "I've perfected the practice of turning solid metal liquid. Sadly, my father never taught me much else, so my other metalbending skills are not as good as Ser Jaime's."

The boy turns to his father. "They would be useful", he whispers, but she hears him anyway. Useful for _what_?

"I might convince Robert about him", Lord Stark replies, just as low, "but I'm not sure about _her_. He doesn't know anything."

She frowns. What are they talking about?

"You're his best friend", the boy replies, too informal for a bastard son to refer to his father. Then again, Lady Stark is oddly fond of him. She shouldn't be surprised. "You can find a way, I'm sure." Then he turns back to their cell. "You don't have to die tomorrow", he declares firmly. "We'll make sure of it, and that your children will suffer no consequences."

He doesn't explain further before leaving, which only makes her more confused. How are they going to spare them from execution? And _why_?

* * *

Whatever it is that Lord Stark and his bastard do, it works. Eddard himself announces their sentence in the castle's garden. Everyone is gathered around them as they await their sentence.

"Queen Cersei Baratheon and Ser Jaime Lannister are accused of treason against the king", he begins, "and murder attempt. Queen Cersei has borne children from her own twin and has passed them as the king's for years. They have also pushed Bran Stark out of the window when he caught their affair, leading him to the comatose state he is in today. Do any of you have anything to say for yourselves?"

"Bran Stark's fall was an accident", Jaime says. She reinforces this. They don't answer to the other accusations; it is too late for that.

"Very well", he nods. "The king and I have discussed your punishment. In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, the First of his Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, by the word of Eddard of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, I sentence Queen Cersei Baratheon to exile, and Ser Jaime Lannister to the Wall. Prince Joffrey, Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen are to be recognized as Lannister bastards, take the name Stone and sent to Casterly Rock, to be fostered by Lord Tywin Lannister and his heir Tyrion Lannister. So is the will of the king."

Her eyes widen, and so do Jaime's. They are not to be beheaded, only sent away—and apart. _Well, Robert was never going to let us near each other_ , she thinks. _He'd never give us the opportunity to fuck each other ever again. At least my children will be safe._

She is allowed one last moment with her family—namely, her children and Tyrion. Her younger brother looks actually _sad_. "I'm sorry", he dares say. "As much as we never got along, I never wished for this."

She wants to snap at him and disbelieve him, but then she remembers: she likely won't ever see him again. The least she could do is act civil; leave one good memory, at last. "You are not at fault, brother. What could you have done? Just… take care of the children, please."

He nods. "I'll do my best, I promise." And she believes him, even if it's just because they are _Jaime's_ children too, and her brothers actually love each other.

Joffrey has no desire to see her, to the point he calls her a whore when she tries to approach him. Her eyes water, but Myrcella and Tommen are nothing but gentle, so it's a small comfort. "You are _Lannisters_ ", she tells them earnestly. "You are _lions_ and _metalbenders_. You are stronger than anyone in this castle, and anyone in this _realm_. And you will _show_ them. Show them that lions do not bow over sheep. I love you all."

A small carriage is ready for them. Jon Frost is standing at its side, and only _now_ she notices Benjen Stark has been in Winterfell all along. "We'll take you to White Harbor first", the man declares, looking at Cersei. "And then we'll head to the Wall."

Jon opens the small wagon's door and gestures for them to enter. "Managed to get your sword, Ser", she hears him tell Jaime. "I'll return it to you when we reach the Wall. Well… make yourselves comfortable. We'll reach White Harbor by twilight."

The boy and his uncle leave the two of them alone. "They seem oddly fine with leaving us without supervision", she comments.

"It's no different than what Lord Stark did in the dungeons", he points out. Then he grins. "We should enjoy it while we can."

She nods, and though their hands are tied, they do enjoy it.

* * *

White Harbor is rather dull, compared to Lannisport and King's Landing, but it matters little, in the end, for she doesn't stay long enough for a proper evaluation. As soon as they arrive, a ship awaits her.

Jon Frost and Benjen Stark allow her and Jaime one last goodbye. "I'll come back", she whispers. "And I'll make everything right again."

He grins and kisses her forehead. "I know you will. You always do."

On the ship, she is finally untied. There is nobody to whisk her away, after all, and nowhere for her to go. She can only make plans once she set foot on soil again. Speaking of which, "Where is the ship headed to?", she asks one of the sailors.

He barely glances at her. "Pentos", he replies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember I said things would stray even further from canon? Hahahah  
> I'd love to hear your guesses and wishes regarding what's going to happen. Next chapter will be in Jaime's POV, and then we'll get our first glimpse of the surviving Targaryens! Who's excited? I am :D


	5. Jaime I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime reminisces his past and, step by step, discovers what exactly the future has in store for him.

The ride from White Harbor to the Wall is utterly dull without Cersei. Benjen Stark and Jon Frost turned a blind eye to him and his sister on their way from Winterfell to the port—which was odd, considering it's the very thing that got him sent to the Night's Watch in the first place, but he wasn't going to _complain_ —but now that he has only the two of them for company, he doesn't know what to do except for retreating to his corner to brood.

At some point, though, Lord Stark's bastard seemingly decides he has brooded long enough and starts a conversation. "How did you get into the Kingsguard?" is the first thing he asks, and it honestly takes Jaime by surprise. He expected the boy to bring his crimes to his face, mock him, treat him disdainfully… but Jon's eyes are curious.

He adjusts his position—he's been posing as a statue in the back of the wagon he and Frost are inside, while Benjen Stark rides the horse—and begins his tale. "Well, first of all, I had to be recognized as a master bender. It was… less than a year before, I think." The mention of his former title is bittersweet; he's undeniably _proud_ of having achieved it at fifteen years old—a feat not even Lord Tywin can claim—but the memory's always attached to the fact it _did not last_.

Regardless, Jon immediately asks how he got it, and his eyes are shining even more now, so he indulges in the boy's curiosity; it's not like he has better things to do. "I've been told I started bending in my third day in this world", he begins, happier memories coming to surface. "It isn't _easy_ , you know. Metalbending. It is said that it used to be an ability only Grand earthbending Maesters were able to do. Anyway, it didn't stop me from training restlessly. I took to weapon making instead of mining, which was expected from the heir of Casterly Rock. Father tried to correct me, but I was a hopeless case, and he eventually gave up."

Jon tilts his head. "Did he train your sister or your brother then? To do what you refused to do?"

He snorts. _What a naïve boy._ "Tyrion is a non bender, on top of being a dwarf. Father hates him and wishes he could find proof that he's a bastard. I've heard him mutter 'Tyrion Stone' once. And my sister… Well, Cersei is an exception, not a rule. Daughters of metalbenders are usually non benders, plantbenders at best. It took awhile for people to notice some of my bending was actually done by _her_ hand. Father never knew what to do with her, so he just ignored her bending. Never gave her formal training, never put her in charge of Casterly Rock or the mining."

The boy is frowning now. "It doesn't sound smart of him. Don't female benders rise to ladyship in the South?"

"They _do_ … but not so much in the West. Like I said, female metalbenders are extremely rare. Cersei is self taught, half from watching me and other men, half by trial and error." He can't help a proud smirk at that. His sister is so talented, she should have gotten a Master title years ago. His smirk falls when he realizes she's never going to get it now. As far as he knows, there aren't maesters in Essos to declare someone a master bender.

"I see", Jon replies vaguely. Silence falls, but it doesn't last long. "How was your master trial? I assume you had one; I've been told it's how it's done in the South."

He nods and allows himself a half grin as he recalls that moment. He was a green boy—he hadn't even begun to lay down with Cersei yet—but Tywin was determined to prove House Lannister's power to the realm, and what better way to do it than having his heir declared a metalbending master? Casterly Rock already had its maester, Creylen, but his father insisted on summoning an _archmaester_ as well to witness Jaime's trial.

It was a grand ceremony, and nearly all Lannisters attended, even those married off to other Houses, like aunt Genna. House Crakehall was also present, since Jaime had been Lord Sumner's squire since he was twelve. He _was_ nervous in the morning of the trial, but Cersei kissed him and told him to make her proud, and Tyrion—then a child of seven—told him he was _already_ proud of his big brother, and that was all incentive he needed. He doesn't tell Jon about that part, no. He skips to the trial itself.

"Maester Creylen knew I was most talented in weapon making, so he prompted me to start showing my skills in that area. They gave me a steel block and commanded me to forge a sword, with a hilt and everything." He points with his chin at a sword lying on the wagon's floor; no use in trying to summon it with his hands tied. "This is the result. You can take a look before I continue."

Jon moves to grab the sword and examines it as if he's seeing one for the first time. He spends more time looking at the hilt, and Jaime knows why: it has a carefully crafted lion on its top, carven in details usually only brought to life by non bending artists. "Wow", he whispers.

"And it cuts deep, if you try it", he adds, his smirk almost _audible_. He can't help himself; he might have lost his title, but the sword that afforded it is still there, reminding him of his glory days—and now someone else is acknowledging it too. "Everyone in the room was just as impressed as you, but my trial wasn't over. My next task was to craft an axe, for which they gave me a bigger steel block. I didn't put as much effort on it, because I didn't plan on keeping the axe, but it was good enough to earn praise. Then, I was taken to one of the gold mines. It was harder, of course—I never spent too much time in the mines—but I passed it. After a pause for lunch, we headed to an arena—the Metal Arena of Lannisport, not sure if you've ever heard of it—and I showed off my fighting abilities. Then, the archmaester declared my trial was complete, and that I'd get an answer from the Citadel in a moon turn."

He doesn't mention how relieved he had been when no one asked him to turn solid metal liquid. It was one of the skills people _claimed_ him to have, but was actually _Cersei's_. He had never claimed it for himself, but still—the maesters could have believed the rumours and asked him to perform the task. Years later, when his sister was already queen and he was already Kingslayer, she finally showed him how to do it, proud to be the one _teaching_ for a change. He can do it just fine nowadays, though he has found little use to the ability so far.

"And then you made it to Kingsguard?", Jon asks, shaking him off his reverie.

"Not immediately", he replies in a more neutral tone. "I was sent off in a campaign against the Kingswood Brotherhood, and fought the Smiling Knight along with Ser Arthur Dayne. Long story short, I played a big part on his defeat, and Ser Dayne knighted me the following morning."

Oh, _that_ memory was sweet. He had gone as Lord Crakehall's squire—a position he had begun to grow weary of since he got his master title—but he faced the Smiling Knight alone with Ser Arthur Dayne—the Sword of the Morning, wielder of Dawn, master lavabender—and Ser Barristan Selmy—the Bold One, a _Grand Master_ earthbender. The Smiling Knight himself was a skilled waterbender—which, he later learned, led King Aerys to believe the _North_ was against him—but, in the end, he was nothing against three master benders.

Selmy was formidable, as expected from a Grand Master, but Dayne _shone_ in the field. The only lava available for him to bend was the one covering Dawn, but he did great damage with it. And, no matter how much water the Smiling Knight conjured to destroy the lava, Arthur always got it back with little effort. It was the Sword of the Morning who delivered the final blow, and it was a _beautiful_ sight.

Afterwards, the Dornish knight praised _his_ contribution to the battle. He could barely remember _what_ contribution he gave—his memories today are still a blur—but he thanked him all the same, and smiled wide when the man stood up to knight him.

"Cersei was the one to suggest me to the Kingsguard, following Ser Harlan Grandison's death. It made sense; Ser Harlan was an earthbender, but the Kingsguard still had others, but no metalbenders to speak of. Of course, it was mostly a plot to keep us together, but I was eager to prove my valor all the same, which ended up being a good thing, since Father left King's Landing and took Cersei with him shortly after. I lost my sister, but I was _Kingsguard_. I figured it couldn't be that bad."

He was proven wrong _every day_ in the two years that followed. Looking back, the seeds of his kingslaying were planted the moment he was first forced to hear Queen Rhaella's pleas for her husband to stop raping her and do nothing about it. _Aren't we supposed to protect her too?_ , he asked the Lord Commander, eager to burst in and bend his sword to make it long and sharp enough to cut the bed in half. _Yes, but not from him_ , the man answered, conveying as much sorrow in his voice as he could—as if it made a damn difference.

Jon doesn't ask anything more about it, though, so he doesn't tell the boy about the dark parts of his story. _Guess he's disappointed to find out my appointment to Kingsguard was born out of incestuous lust._ Eventually, he speaks up again. "I wanted to bring your sister along, you know. We could easily find a place for her." _What? How? Only men are allowed in the Night's Watch_. "But it would be unwise to let her stay in Westeros."

"Then why not exile _me_ too?", he asks before he can stop himself. "I thought I was just as dangerous."

Jon blinks. "We need metalbenders in the Night's Watch", he replies simply, but something in his expression makes Jaime suspicious. However, before he can think of a way to ask the boy more, the chariot stops, and Benjen Stark appears.

"Hey, Jon", he calls. "Time to switch." The bastard boy nods and excuses himself. Benjen sits almost on the exact spot his nephew was. "I know it must suck now", he says, "but it grows on you. The Wall, the Night's Watch. It's been easier now, these last couple years."

He frowns. "What changed?"

Stark's eyes shine with something… amusement? "Oh, Jon hasn't told you?"

He shakes his head and sighs, slightly irritated. "Clearly not, as I have no idea what you're talking about."

The man grins, unaffected by his tone. "Then it's a surprise. You'll see it soon. We are not going to stop tonight."

And indeed they don't. Jaime is lulled to sleep by the mild shaking of the wagon, and is woken by Jon's shouting. "Little crow coming! Little crow coming!"

He yawns and blinks. Benjen is already awake. "What in seven hells does he mean with that?", he asks the man.

"Oh, he's just warning there is a recruit coming. They call recruits 'little crows'."

"Who's 'they'?" Honestly, he's already tired. Ever since his night spent in Winterfell's dungeons, he's been hearing the Starks talk cryptically to him, as if they were oracles from Assha'i or something of the sort.

Benjen just grins at him, as the chariot comes to a stop. "It's the surprise I told you." He opens the door. "Come down."

He frowns, but follows him out of the wagon. He expects to be met by the Wall, and although he _can_ see it, it's still far away. No, that is not what Stark meant by 'surprise'—he was clearly talking about the _village_ that lies before him.

_Isn't this the Gift? There are no villages in the Gift, are there?_

It's Jon who sees the confusion on his face and approaches him, while Benjen goes ahead. "It's kind of a secret village", he explains. "Only Houses Stark and Umber are aware of its existence. Lord Stark was the one to give permission for them to settle, actually."

He is too surprised to come up with a jape, so he just asks, "Who are they?"

Jon grins. He is beginning to dislike that grin. "Oh, the Free Folk. Or rather, the wildlings."

_Wait, what?_

* * *

Apparently, reaching the wildling village means there is no turning back for him, because Jon finally unties him—though he still isn't given his sword back. He is introduced to Mance Rayder, King-beyond-the-Wall, who wears this title even though his people are now _south_ of the Wall, and everyone insists they don't _kneel_ before him, just follow him until they think he's being an idiot.

"Jaime Lannister", Rayder says, savoring his name as if it was his meal. "Never heard of you, of course, but I've heard plenty of your House. Metalbenders, right?"

He nods, but it's Jon who answers with words. "He got a master title at fifteen, but then he killed the king and lost it."

He says it casually, as if people killed their kings all the time. Maybe it's the case beyond the Wall. Rayder raises his eyebrows at him, amused. "A kneeler killing the king, huh. You should let him stay here, Jon. My people will find him hilarious."

That sentence alone makes Jaime _want_ to go to the Wall, but again it's Jon who answers. "But he's not here for killing the king, Mance. He did it fifteen years ago, around the time I was born. He's here… well, he cuckolded the current king by fucking his own twin sister."

Jaime can't help but _glare_ at the boy. Out of all ways to explain his crimes, he chooses _this_? Mance Rayder laughs out loud, and soon he hears a female voice. "Oh, a sisterfucker! I like this one already!"

Then a redhead girl comes to his vision. Her hair is not read like a Tully; it's _fire_ red, like it's burning. She grabs Jon by the collar and gives him a peck on the mouth— _what?_ —and pats Rayder on the shoulder before turning to him, looking him up and down. "So you're the new little crow." He nods dumbly, and she grins—it reminds him of Jon's grin, so he already hates it. "I'm Ygritte, your executioner."

This time, he can't help it. " _What_?"

Jon rolls his eyes beside her. "Don't take her seriously, Ser Jaime", he says calmly. "She tells this to every recruit we get. She thinks it's scary."

"It _scared_ him, didn't you see?"

"He's a metalbender, 'Gritte", he says, as if it somehow makes him special. " _Try_ to be polite, at least."

She glances at him, as if evaluating him, then turns back to Jon. "Politeness is overrated", she huffs, "but I guess he's important to you, so I'll _try_."

Oblivious to his increasing confusion, he kisses Ygritte's cheek. "I know you can do it. I've seen your charming Robb once. Poor boy actually thought you were serious."

She laughs. He decides to turn his eyes to Rayder, who's watching the entire interaction with amusement and familiarity. He has a _million_ questions, but he settles on, "Is the Night's Watch no longer celibate?" It would explain Benjen's earlier statement on how things got easier for them.

The kind-of-king laughs. "No, Sisterfucker, they still are. You're still going to freeze your balls up there. But _Jon_ isn't a black brother."

Ygritte laughs at this, which makes him turn back to her. She's not looking at him, though, but at Jon. "He thinks _you_ are a crow!"

He chuckles. "Of course", he replies easily. "I _am_ dressed in black, for starters, and I brought him to the Wall along with uncle Benjen, who _is_ a crow. What else was he going to think?"

Then the boy finally looks at Jaime, and grins—ugh—upon seeing his confused expression. "Don't worry, Ser. Everyone gets confused at first glance. You'll understand things soon."

"Why not help me understand _now_?", he retorts.

It's Ygritte who answers, seizing him up and down again. "You are just a _little crow_ ", she says, as if it explains it all. "Know your place, and _then_ you'll know the gossip."

Honestly, why is he even here? Is this a test for his patience?

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Okay. He can try to figure _something_ out. He opens his eyes. "Why are the wildlings south of the Wall? Can I know _that_?"

Rayder nods. "Winter has reached the lands beyond the Wall", he explains, voice tone serious. "It's the harshest we've ever seen, and… well, it was for the best, for everyone involved, to let at least _some_ of the Free Folk settle here."

There is more to the story, he's sure, but he guesses the rest is not for _little crows_ , so he just nods at the information given.

"Anyway", Jon says, calling for his attention. "We came here to get lunch. Come with me, Ser."

He follows the boy, though he stays a little far behind when he realizes Ygritte is going along. The two are affectionate _and_ bantering at almost the same time. _This is an odd relationship, but it may be how it works beyond the Wall. Are the rumours true, then? Was Jon Frost raised among wildlings?_ Maybe it was easier to get Lord Stark's permission for them to cross the Wall if the payment was to foster his bastard.

Lunch is a… _loud_ affair. If he ever thought his children—gods, it's both amazing and torturous to refer to them as _his_ —made noise, it was nothing compared to what the wildlings—Free Folk—do. _It's like they are clones of King Robert_ , he notices, not as bitterly as he assumed he'd be when thinking about Cersei's former husband. _I assume the marriage was annulled, anyway. It was a little unclear._

A man who calls himself Tormund Giantsbane sits at his side and decides, before he can even _speak_ , that Jaime is his new companion for adventures. "I drink with crows all the time", he boasts. "And anyone who is a friend of Little Lor—Little Jon is my friend too!"

 _And since_ when _I'm the boy's friend?_ Not to mention Tormund nearly calls Jon 'lord'—oh, he notices. Who _is_ Jon Frost in this place?

It seems to be the biggest question, out of dozens he has, and it stays on his mind as he is tied up again and led back to the wagon. Benjen seems to notice he is deep in thought, since he doesn't bother him for the rest of their short trip to the Wall.

* * *

On his first day of training, he picks up a few things. First, the Wall's main maester is _Aemon Targaryen_ , a man he had deemed long dead. He is a master firebender, and his blindness seems to be only a mild inconvenience.

Second, the Night's Watch _is_ in dire need of metalbenders. Most benders are of ice, save for Maester Aemon and Lord Commander Jeor Mormont, who bends snow. He hasn't even taken his vows and he already knows he'll have many tasks to occupy his days when he does.

Third, Jon does not live among the wildlings, but shares a chamber with his uncle instead. Odd.

Fourth, there are many other recruits, but he is far more skilled than even the best of them. He is initially proud of himself, but as the day goes, he ends up pitying the boys. Some are nice, like Grenn and Pyp, and he finds he doesn't want to hurt or humiliate them just to make a show of himself.

Then comes the second day, and a whole new set of revelations along with it.

"What in seven hells?!"

Jon raises his head from the cockpit and dares to look embarrassed. "Oh, sorry", he says. "I was meaning to _tell_ you. Tell all recruits, actually."

"You are a _firebender_ ", he states dumbly.

"So it seems, huh, crow", someone barks. He has also learned, in the last thirty-or-so hours, that the word 'crow' here means 'recruit', and not 'black brother' like in the Gift.

Jon leaves the cooking to the, well, _cookers_ , and leads him outside. "Eddard Stark is my uncle, actually", he says. "His sister Lyanna Stark is my mother, and Rhaegar Targaryen is my natural father."

He says it casually, as if it isn't the revelation of the year for Jaime. Then again, it may be just another fact of life for the boy. "Is that why you're here?", he asks, genuinely curious this time.

Jon nods. "Aye. Uncle Ned tried to pose me as his bastard, and for three years it worked, since it seemed I'd be a non bender. But when I started firebending… well, what was he going to say? That _Queen Rhaella_ was my mother? I came here instead, to hide from King Robert and to train with Maester Aemon."

He has a faint memory of Lyanna Stark. She was quite a beauty, different from the women he was used to seeing—though nowadays he has trouble remembering anything beyond her wild dark hair. He has always wondered why Rhaegar abducted her, especially when he had _Elia Martell_ as his wife.

Perhaps Jon knows, but he decides it's not his place to ask. Some other day he will. For now, he settles on, "Then why don't you take the black? Wouldn't it be safer for you, if Robert ever finds out?" Aemon Targaryen went to the Wall to stop anyone from crowning him instead of his younger brother. If Jon does the same, Robert will know he has no intention of usurping him.

Unless, of course, it is _exactly_ what Jon plans to do.

The boy grins, and he frowns, already irritated. "You are a _little crow_ , remember, Ser?" Then his expression softens a bit. "Don't worry. All in due time."

He huffs, not caring if he sounds like a child upon doing so. He decides he _really_ doesn't like Jon Frost and his cocky attitude—cockier than _he_ usually is, which is saying a lot. What is so important about him that he has to keep an aura of mystery? It's not even pretty.

On the following days, he sees less of Jon Frost, both because of his own efforts to avoid the annoying boy and his trips to the Gift—to see Ygritte, no doubt. Once he brings Tormund fucking Giantsbane, who really _is_ friends with half of the Night's Watch. He doesn't stop calling Jaime _Jon's_ friend, though, so he's also irritated with him.

At first, he chooses to interact with anyone Frost _doesn't_ interact with, but he soon finds out the men who fall into that category are a pain in the ass, so he swallows his pride and approaches Jon's friends and good acquaintances. He sits mostly with the local blacksmith, Donal Noye, who once worked for House Baratheon.

"It's good", he says once, "what you're doing with the other recruits."

He raises an eyebrow, confused. "What?"

"Going easy on them", he explains. "Correcting them when Thorne doesn't." _Most of the time, then_ , he thinks, suppressing a snort. Allister Thorne is a bigger pain in his ass than Jon. "You don't show off that much. I have to admit, I had expected you to. It's good."

He shrugs, unsure of what to do with such a freely given compliment. "I'll be stuck here with them for the rest of my days", he replies. "Might as well be useful."

The man lets out a laugh. "You're gonna be a _lot_ useful, believe me. For one, _I_ could use some help in the smith." He raises his one arm for emphasis.

It leaves him curious. "How do you work with only one arm? I'd be a disaster if I lost one hand." In metalbending, one hand supports the other, which ensures precision of movements.

"It was hard at first", Noye admits, "but you get used to it. Learn to live with it. I can't speak for benders, of course. Never saw a one-handed bender. But I'd guess it's also a matter of adapting." They talk about weapon making for a while, and for other days after that one. Donal has seen his fair share of war, and he's a decent conversationalist. His words leave him in deep thought as he goes to bed that night. _It's all a matter of adapting, right? I can get used to this new life. Just because it was a punishment, it doesn't have to be a miserable affair._

One his tenth day as a recruit, a boy arrives. Samwell of House Tarly. Jaime met his father, Lord Randyll, years ago. Samwell is nothing like his father, and he thinks that as an insult: not only is he _fatter than a cow_ , he is frightened at everything and has no fight skills. Thorne humiliates him all the time, and many other recruits and black brothers scorn him.

It reminds him of Tyrion, though his little brother would never have stood quiet when hearing insults—unless they came from their father. _He won't last a moon turn here_ , he realizes with a frown. _Unless…_

It's the first time he approaches Maester Aemon after they are introduced to each other. "Maester", he calls when he opens the door, "it's Jaime Lannister". The old man gestures for him to come. "I know I'm only a recruit", he begins, fully aware humbleness is appreciated around this zone of the world, "but there is a newer recruit who… well, he may not be of use as a soldier."

"Samwell Tarly, I suppose", he replies. Jaime makes a noncommittal sound of agreement. "Jon's told me about him yesterday. Said he has been heavily mistreated."

"He has", he agrees, mentally surprised that he and Jon _agree_. Then again, disagreement has never been a _problem_ between the two; Jon simply irritated the hell out of him. "I've been tempted to call Allister out on his treatment, but I'm not sure I can do much as a recruit. I came here to suggest… to have him sent to the Citadel. I've seen him taking refuge in books."

"Jon suggested taking him as a steward", he replies. _It's a good idea too_ , he contemplates. "I'll consider your own suggestion as well, Jaime. Let me give you a suggestion of my own: don't be afraid of speaking your mind. Soon you'll be a black brother just like Thorne, and he needs to be put in place sometimes. Mormont has become too grumpy to do it properly, and my voice is not as strong as it once was."

He thanks the maester and heads back to his chambers, which he shares with Jeren—a septon's bastard who is physically weak, but not as disastrous as Tarly, not to the point of being mocked _all_ the time.

On the following morning, they have sword training with Thorne. He is placed to train with _Samwell_ , who looks scared to face the Kingslayer. He plays it easy, as always, but the boy recoils anyway and falls back on the ground when he hits his sword, and Thorne leads another set of laughs and insults. Jaime doesn't laugh; instead, he offers his hand for Tarly to grab.

"Looks like the Kingslayer found a lady to rescue", Allister says.

He rolls his eyes and turns to Thorne. "You're a fucking cunt, you know that, right?", he retorts, borrowing Sandor Clegane's classical discourse. "You are _pathetic_ if you think it's funny to pick on the weaker man. If you had any _real_ skill, you wouldn't waste your time mocking those who don't, but actually _teach_ them, which _should_ be _your_ job, but I'm doing it better than you since I got here. You're just a wannabe knight, and you have nothing but stupid mocking to show. _Fuck_ you."

Something in his words redeems Allister downright _speechless_ , but he doesn't stay around for long to find out what. Later, when he's eating dinner with Noye, Samwell approaches him to thank him. "They've been less cruel to me this afternoon", he says. "Not sure they'll keep that up for the following days, but it's something."

"Sure it is", he agrees. "We've all been in your place once, boy. Hells, some of the recruits are just as terrible. But if we're all going to freeze our balls in this icy wasteland, we should at least have some camaraderie among us."

"Aye", Jon says, sitting with the three of them. "We're all in this together, might as well make the best of it." He turns to Samwell. "I know all the nice men in the Night's Watch, if you want to save yourself time and energy."

"Thanks, man", he replies after swallowing his food. "You should join the Night's Watch with us." Jon shakes his head, and Tarly asks why.

Jaime snorts. "We're _little crows_ , we can't know all of Jon's secrets."

The boy laughs and nods. "He's right. To know all of me, you've got to take the black."

Jaime rolls his eyes while Samwell looks plainly confused. He doubts Jon's secret is big enough to justify all this mystery.

* * *

Since Maester Aemon plans to take Samwell as his steward, the boy says his vows along with Jaime and the others. There is a small sept, who has little use aside from vow proclaiming, and they kneel in front of the Father as they speak.

"Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch, for this night and all the nights to come."

These vows sound sweeter in his ears than the ones he took when he became Kingsguard. Although, deep down, he knows they are not _strictly_ followed (many black brothers are _not_ celibate), there are not contradicting vows. Those are more bearable, and easier to follow. _Who knows, I may actually grow proud of serving here one day._

There is no ceremony, no cloaking; all he gets is his old sword back. He doesn't feel so different when he rises. It's better this way, he supposes.

There _is_ a small feast, though, after they are all assigned to their posts. He is named as Mormont's steward, which he finds rather odd—he expected to be named either builder or ranger, given his bending—but he guesses becoming a steward will allow him to do anything that is required of him. Over the days, he has noticed there are many uses for a metalbender like him. _Cersei would have been of great help_ , he muses, with a sadness that always plagues him when he thinks of his sister. _She could have settled at the Gift, and she'd come every so often to help._ Not that he believes Cersei would easily adapt to a wildling lifestyle. _Perhaps exile to Essos was the better alternative for her, in the end._

He sits next to Mormont, as his new steward. Tarly and Jon sit near him as well, and they engage in conversation. Jon's eyes are _shining_ , and he is wary of what it might mean. At one point, when men have already started to drink but before they are too drunk, Mormont stands up and calls for attention.

"We've already welcomed you all to the Night's Watch." No one had, but fine. "But now that you are _true_ black brothers, you are allowed to know our big secret. The Night's Watch purpose has always been to protect Westeros from evils that lie beyond the Wall. Those evils have been forgotten over the centuries, and most of our work has centered on nearly useless battles against the wildling. But now, our original purpose has been making itself known again.

"Winter has come for us, and _harshly_. People beyond the Wall are dying of cold and starvation, and older members can tell you how hard it has been to keep oneself warm lately. This is no coincidence, and although we don't know the cause yet, we know it's strongly related to an event that happened fifteen years ago."

Jaime frowns. Fifteen years ago was the end of Robert's rebellion, marked by King Aerys' death—by _his_ hands, no less—and the fall of the centuries-old Targaryen dynasty. What does it have to do with the cold?

"Fifteen years ago, prophecies long forgotten came true in a single, albeit tragic, moment. A legend came back to life, and while his quest has yet to be made clear, we all know what his mission has always been: bring balance and peace to the world. To the newest members of the Night's Watch, I present to you the _Avatar reborn_."

Silence falls, as if everyone stopped breathing. Jaime knows he has; what does Mormont mean, the _Avatar reborn_? _Is the Lord Commander's mind going mad with old age?_

But no, Mormont is perfectly sane. He realizes that as _Jon Frost_ stands up and, with a grin in _his_ direction, makes a fireball in one hand and freezes the ceiling with the other.

_Forget everything I've ever thought or said. The boy's secret is damn big._

Some cheer, some clap, some roar. Jaime simply stares at Jon, whose stupid grin remains in place as he sits back down, motions closer to Jaime and says, "And guess who's to be my metalbending teacher?"

_Oh, fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I throw a quote from High School Musical in the middle of an ASOIAF/ATLA fanfic? Yes, I did.  
> Now we have an idea of how the wildling are doing, and how their relationship with the Night's Watch in the last three years - remember, they crossed the Wall when Jon was 12, and now he is 15.  
> We'll dwell on Jon's relationship with Ygritte in his next chapter, which will come soon.  
> Next we'll take a look across the Narrow Sea! Feel free to share thoughts and questions. I love it when you send them!


	6. Daenerys I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys makes an unexpected friend as she is married off to Khal Drogo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many parts of this chapter are similar to canon, so I focused on what differs. Just warning in case you feel like I skipped or glossed over canon scenes.

Sometimes, Dany misses the brother she once knew.

Don't take her wrong, having Viserys around is better than being _alone_ , and she'll take what she can get. But there is no denying that her brother did _not_ grow gentler with age.

He was the one who taught her firebending basics, despite being a non bender. He said he always paid attention to their mother's and brother Rhaegar's bending, even when it became clear he had taken after their father in that particular aspect.

Viserys used to tell her many stories about their family and their home. He had been seven years old when they were forced to flee, so while his memories may not be completely trustworthy, they are all she has from the home she was kicked out from as soon as she was born.

Things have changed since they had to sell their mother's crown to survive, though. Viserys' words lost all sweetness, and he began to threaten her as if _he_ was the firebender of the family, and unfortunately she has never been skilled enough to really challenge him. Things also came to a point where he could no longer help her improve, and she had to rely on people-watching to learn something whenever her path crossed with a firebender's. It happened a lot in their brief time in Lys, which _would_ have made the city her favorite if a toothless man hadn't threatened to sell her and her brother as bed slaves—she didn't even know what the job entailed back then, but she heard the word 'slave' and got instantly frightened.

 _I ended up becoming one anyway_ , she thinks resentfully as she gets ready to meet Khal Drogo. Under Magister Illyrio Mopatis' care, Viserys made a deal with the Dothraki: an army in exchange for a marriage between her and the khal. Said army is for when her brother finally sails to Westeros to reclaim his birthright as king. _I wonder how he plans to take the Dothraki to cross the Narrow Sea. I may be young, but I know they are fearful of the ocean. Not to mention they are non benders; why them, when there are mercenary companies full of benders?_ She tries not to dwell too much on her brother's desperation of late.

At one moment, Viserys comes to remind her of her _duty_ —and to feel her up, acting like she wouldn't know exactly what he's doing with his hands. They briefly meet Khal Drogo, who is three times her size, and the wedding is scheduled to happen in five days.

Her sleep is plagued with nightmares with Viserys and Khal Drogo. She has no doubt the big man is going to have his way with her, and though, once upon a time, she'd rather give her maidenhead to her brother instead, now she wonders if it would make a difference. _I bet Viserys will find a way to have Drogo killed once we reach Westeros to take me as his bride. He always talks about blood purity, after all, and he'll surely want to assure his line will have firebenders._

She briefly considers setting her own skin on fire; perhaps, if the burns leave enough scars, Drogo will be disgusted by the sight of her and cancel the wedding. _But then Viserys will be mad,_ she thinks, _and accuse me of 'waking the dragon'. Would my powers be enough against his brute force? Would anyone come to my aid?_

On the following morning, she is introduced to Ser Jorah Mormont, who came along with the Dothraki and sworn himself to Viserys. He is a snowbender, but he tells her his bending has been of little use since he left Bear Island. When she asks why he is in Essos, he simply says, "It's a long story, princess."

Viserys smiles, not just grins, which is something she hasn't seen in years. He has allowed himself to hope again, she realizes, hope to go back home. _It is his home, but is it mine? I miss Braavos. I miss the house with the red door and the lemon tree. Oh, I'd be happy to spend the rest of my days there._

At the end of the second day of waiting— _dreading_ —Illyrio brings a woman to his house. She is at the entrance, on her way to get water, when they get in. The woman is white-skinned like her and Viserys, and she has green eyes and golden, long hair. She is _beautiful_ , more so than most women she's met, and does not look Essosi at all.

"Your Highness", Illyrio says, bowing slightly. "May I present to you, Cersei of House Lannister."

Her eyes widen. Lannister is a name she's heard quite often. _Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer, the man who cowardly murdered my father. They must be related…_ She suddenly remembers something she heard once, when she and her brother tried to move back to Braavos. _The Usurper married a Cersei, daughter of Tywin. Is this the same Cersei?_

There is only one way to find out. "Are you Robert Baratheon's wife?"

To her credit, the woman does not hesitate, and she holds herself strong. "I was", she replies. "But he dishonored me, and I've come to see the errors of my family's ways. I came to pledge myself to you and your brother, Your Highness, and assist you in your quest to take back what has always been yours by right."

* * *

Viserys interrogates Cersei for a whole day, accompanied by her and Illyrio. Though his mood sways from question to question, she thinks his procedure is actually sensible. As the daughter of Tywin Lannister—the man who ordered the murders of her nephew, her niece and her good sister—, twin sister to the Kingslayer and former wife to the Usurper, Cersei has a lot against her.

However, there is a lot in her favor, too. She was once Elia Martell's lady-in-waiting, a position only lost after her father forcefully took her out of King's Landing, furious that his heir became Kingsguard. Her wedding to the Usurper was arranged by her father as well; her wish had always been to wed her brother Rhaegar, and the way she mentions his name speaks of honest affection. She has always _despised_ her husband, on the other hand, and openly admitted to having cheated on him to rob him of legitimate heirs. She doesn't give a name for her children's father(s), but Viserys doesn't seem particularly interested in that particular information either.

"How did your marriage come to an end?", he asks.

"He found out about the children", she replies easily. "He wanted to behead me for my infidelity, but Lord Eddard Stark convinced him to exile me instead."

Viserys grimaces. "Eddard Stark", he spats.

Cersei doesn't falter. "I know he played a big part in your family's demise", she says. "And he is now Hand of the King. However, Your Grace, Lord Stark cares for his family more than anything else, even power. He had the chance to take the throne for himself, but declined. If we managed to get his support, we'd have the entire North to back your claim, and it is no small feat."

Her brother raises his eyebrows. "'We'? Fancy yourself a part of my court already?"

The Lannister woman breaks her neutral expression for the first time, to smirk. "I fancy myself as your wife, Your Grace, if you'll have me. House Lannister is the wealthiest of the realm, and as my father's firstborn, I'll be better able to secure an alliance with House Targaryen if we wed."

Viserys' eyes widen, and so do hers. _She's bold, I'll give her that. If she plays her cards right, this might just work._ She suddenly finds herself hoping for this marriage. _If she satisfies my brother, he'll forget about me, and I'll only have Drogo to worry about._

"What else would I gain from marrying you, Lady Cersei?", he asks slowly. "As tempting as an alliance offer sounds, it would be… unwise to commit ourselves for life based on just that. After all, your father lies across the Narrow Sea, and I doubt he is aware of the conversation we're having."

Again, there is no hesitation in her voice. "I'm a metalbender, Your Grace", she replies. "My father hasn't given me formal training, but I've mastered the art of manipulating liquid metal. As you may be aware, liquid metal is often used for poison making." She waves her hand in the direction of the goblet of wine he is holding, and part of its contents being to float. Daenerys lets out a gasp. "I'd make sure your food and drink are safe, better than any taster. I'd be as good a shield as any Kingsguard. And my… fertility is well documented. You would not have to worry about heirs."

Silence falls among them. After what seems a long time, Viserys declares, "I'll consider your marriage proposal until tomorrow night. In the meantime, you are to serve as my sister's lady-in-waiting, just like you served Princess Elia."

Cersei turns to her for the first time since the interrogation began, and smiles gently. "I'll do it gladly, Your Highness, if you'll have me."

She smiles back. The prospect of having a female companion is too tempting to refuse. _Perhaps we'll even become friends._ "I do", she replies. Viserys dismisses them all with a hand wave as he leaves the room. She stands up, and hears Cersei follow her as she proceeds to her own chambers.

"This has been my room for over a year", she tells the woman as she closes the door. "It's the biggest I've ever gotten, and the only one with an extra bed. You can choose whether to sleep here or to have your own separate room. I won't judge either choice."

"Whatever pleases your Highness the most." Cersei's smile is sweet, and she doesn't like it. _This is a woman used to bowing to others' desires_ , she guesses. _She was likely never able to do what she wanted. Not that much different from me._

She smiles back at her. "It would greatly please me to have _you_ choose, my lady. You are not my slave, you don't have to wait for my orders at every turn."

The Lannister woman blinks, clearly taken aback. _How was it,_ she wonders, _to be my good sister's lady-in-waiting?_ Actually, Dany has no idea what it means to be a lady-in-waiting _at all_ ; she is used to doing her own chores, dressing herself up and fixing her own hair—that is, _if_ she had time and resources for it, which she often didn't. She certainly didn't in Myr.

Finally, Cersei steals a glance at the extra bed. "If you don't mind then, Your Highness, I'd like to stay here."

Dany smiles more widely. "I don't mind. There _is_ an ivory bath here, after all."

* * *

Three days pass. She gets to know Cersei Lannister a bit more, and tells her some parts of her own story in return.

She knows that, when they were little kids, Cersei and her twin looked so identical they'd switch clothes sometimes to get a glimpse at the other's daily activities. Those were the only times she'd get proper metalbending training, while the future Kingslayer would complain of boredom about the septa's lessons.

Her father never expected her to be a bender; in the West, female metalbenders were rare, and no Lannister woman had been a bender in decades—her mother and her aunt were non benders. Lord Tywin never knew how to deal with her unexpected abilities, and therefore ignored them in favor of her twin.

"I thought that he'd pay more attention to me when Tyrion was confirmed to be a non bender", she told her, right after telling the story of how her mother died giving birth to her dwarf little brother; she bled so much, no healer managed to save her. "But he got too busy hating my brother for killing Mother. I resented both of them over the years. Only Jaime paid me any mind."

There is fondness in her voice whenever she speaks of her twin, even though she clearly tries to hide it for her sake. A part of her wants to say she doesn't have to; after all, she is not at fault for loving her family, especially the only family who seemed to have ever cared for her. However, it does sting to hear his name. She doesn't remember her father, of course, and sometimes she suspects he had _some_ fault in the war that led to his death—the Targaryen dynasty had endured for almost three centuries, after all, so there must have been some sort of mistake of his part that allowed it to crumble under the Usurper's forces—but he was still her father, the man who contributed to bring her (and her brother) to this world. In a way, she loves him, and it hurts to remember he died by the hands of a man—a _boy_ , she realizes when she thinks about Cersei's age.

In exchange, she tells about her own struggle with her bending, due to the lack of other firebenders in her daily life. She briefly talks about her experience in some cities, like Lys and Myr, and tells her about her upcoming wedding. "I'm not looking forward to it", she admits, "but this is the first time Viserys has looked happy since we were kicked out of our old home in Braavos. If this is the price to go back home, I'll pay it."

Cersei smiles; not the sweet smile she gave her on her first day, but a gentler one. Viserys had just announced the two would wed along with Daenerys and Drogo; they will go for the traditional ceremony of the Faith of the Seven when they reach Westeros, but for now it will be enough to cement their alliance.

"I'll write Father as soon as everything is settled among us", she tells her in response, "and I find a safe way to _send_ a letter to Casterly Rock without going through King's Landing. We'll have the Lannister army and gold to back us up… but you are right. Going back home is worth every step."

 _Are you talking about your own wedding?_ It makes sense; Cersei proposed marriage without even knowing her brother well, and she has spent most of the days with _Daenerys_ anyway. She saw Viserys as her ticket home, and… well, she has married for political reasons once. Doing a second time may not be so bad. _I hope my brother treats her better than the Usurper did._

* * *

Honestly, the only thing worth mentioning about her wedding is that she received three dragon eggs as a gift from Illyrio. Also, Drogo knew what she meant when she said 'no', and waited for her to say 'yes' to take her. _Awkward, but better than I expected._

Ser Jorah reinforced his pledge to Viserys, but he stayed closer to Dany during the wedding, translating things for her—and Cersei too, but she wasn't his focus. He told her briefly about Asshai, the place where the eggs allegedly came from, but not much; he has never _been_ there, after all.

When she wakes up on the morning after her wedding, she is introduced to three maids, gifted by Viserys: Irri, Jhiqui and Doreah. "They'll teach you the language", he explains, then lowers his voice, "and the arts of pleasure." He smirks as he says that.

She fights a blush and decides to not reply. Instead, she seeks her new good sister, who had her own wedding night hours prior. _I hope hers was better than mine… or, at least, less awkward._

Cersei chuckles when she asks her. "Are you sure you want me to talk about having sex with your brother?", she asks in return. Her eyes are amused, as if there is some kind of joke she should be able to understand.

She frowns. "When you put it that way, I'd rather not know, indeed." _You probably wouldn't tell me if he was mistreating you, anyway._

The once again Queen of Westeros asks her about _her_ wedding night, if Drogo treated her well. "It was alright, I think", she replies, turning her eyes to the ground. "A little difficult at first, because we couldn't really understand each other, but… while it wasn't exactly _pleasant_ , it didn't _hurt_ any more than I had expected for my first time." She already knew losing her maidenhead would hurt, regardless of her feelings towards the man she bedded. _I never expected anything… romantic, anyway, given I had assumed it would be Viserys._ "And I didn't set anything on fire by accident. So I guess it was a success, overall."

She looks back at Cersei, who is looking at her with… pity? Compassion? Sympathy? It's hard to tell, so she chooses to listen. "Viserys has sent you Dothraki maids, hasn't he?" She nods. "I've overheard. To teach you how to speak to your husband and how to please him. But… you should get pleasure from the act, too."

Dany blinks, _not_ expecting those words. "Did you get it? From your first husband?"

Cersei shakes her head. "From Robert, no. With him, I learned how to avoid getting him inside me without his complaint. I _can_ teach you that if your husband proves to be unbearable. But… Well, I've already admitted to having had a lover in King's Landing. The actual father of my children. With _him_ , I had pleasure. I taught him how to please me. You can do the same to the _khal_."

They won't start riding until the next day, after everyone recovers from their hangover, so Dany spends a good portion of her day taking Cersei's lessons. _If I'm to spend the rest of my days with Drogo and bear his children, I should at least have some… fun on the way_.

They leave Pentos at sunrise. She rides on the silver Drogo gave her as a wedding present, alongside him, with Viserys, Cersei and Jorah following closely behind. Viserys may be king, but she is _khaleesi_ , and therefore rides ahead. Drogo points out a few things in the scenery and tells her the Dothraki words for each of them. The sun is scalding, and her skin turns to a light shade of brown within days—thought not before turning red, making her so sensitive to the faintest of touches she cannot stand being touched by anyone, not even her husband.

Having Cersei around proves to be a blessing, one she didn't know she needed until she got it. There are no language barriers between them, and even as she learns to communicate with Drogo, her conversations with her good sister are the highlight of her days. Jorah is good company, too, and her maids are friendly, but it's not the same. Viserys is distant, and mostly talks about his plans to go to Westeros as soon as possible, which gets tiresom within a few days. _Life is not so bad in the Dothraki Sea_ , she thinks one night, after getting her first pleasure wave with Drogo. _I could get used to this, if we somehow never get to Westeros._

Her brother does not share her line of thought, however. "I gave you up for this horserider", he spats one day, near noon, the sun at its peak, "but he has yet to pay me back."

"The Dothraki don't buy", Ser Jorah intervenes, "nor they sell." His eyes watch her brother warily, and Cersei tenses on her silver. "They receive _gifts_ , and give other gifts in return when they think it's time. This is the culture you chose to insert yourself in, Your Grace, and you should be mindful of it."

" _They_ should be mindful of _me_ ", he retorts. "I am their _king_ , and—"

"You are nobody's king", she interrupts him. "Not yet. You may be _called_ king, Cersei may be _called_ queen, and I may be _called_ princess, but none of us are _in_ Westeros. We are in the Dothraki Sea, and here, I am _khaleesi,_ and you are my brother."

He fumes at her, and takes a few steps closer. She suddenly cannot remember why she is not on her silver, and why he isn't on his, but it doesn't matter now, does it? "I wouldn't wake the dragon if I were you", he hisses, but Ser Jorah comes to her aid again.

He dismounts quickly and positions himself between the two siblings, effectively blocking Viserys' way to her. "She's the firebender here", he reminds her brother. " _You_ should be the one careful, Your Grace. I may not be able to protect you against her flames."

"She can barely bend", he retorts. "Her powers are weaker than our mother's." Still, he mounts back on his silver. Warily, she does the same. Drogo, who had ridden ahead, is waiting for her, and, although there is no way he heard—or understood—what happened, he lingers closer for the rest of the day.

On that night, she opens the box with the eggs. _Viserys is right_ , she thinks. _My powers are too weak. I must train if I want to be a true Targaryen. If I take these eggs outside and try to hatch them, I can learn to control my fire, even if no dragons come out of them._

She knows enough Dothraki to tell Drogo this, and knows enough to understand his reply. "You don't have to bend here, moon of my life, but if that is your wish…"

"It is, my sun and stars", she replies softly. "Do you want to see?"

He nods, and she begins her work. Her first tries are far from graceful, but he watches her in awe all the same. _Dothraki are non benders_ , she reminds herself. _This is all new to him._

Drogo gets more caring and tender as the days go by, and she realizes she has fallen in love with him. _Yes, I could stay the rest of my days here. If only my brother could learn to be happy here too…_

However, if there is one thing she has learned in her life, is that she'll seldom get what she wants. Her life—a _woman's_ life, if Cersei's subtle remarks are anything to by—is about duty, and all she can do is to try to make her own happiness while she does it.

A duty that includes bearing children, she remembers as she realizes her moon blood hasn't come in months, and her maids confirm her pregnancy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We covered a time spam of a few months here. I'll go back in time in next two chapters so we can know what happened in other regions in the meantime. Namely, we'll go back to the Wall and then we'll get our first look at King's Landing.  
> Feel free to ask questions and give suggestions. Some ideas given here and in Ff.Net helped a lot!


	7. Jon II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime teaches Jon metalbending.

"Are you _sure_ you are the Avatar?", Ser Jaime asks, at least once a day, usually with a smirk on his face.

Metalbending is far easier than waterbending, but it's not without its difficulty, and Jaime turned out to be a _very strict_ master. It is probably due to his initial grumpiness about the whole thing. He remembered how he cursed every deity he could think of when he found out the better part of his days would be spent with Jon. "I can't believe you spared my life just to teach you metalbending", he had said.

It did hurt him a bit at first, to have the man so grumpy about training him. But a talk with Maester Aemon helped ease his feelings a little. "He likely thinks you stole him from his lover", he said. "Simply for your own gain."

"I wanted to bring Cersei here too", he replied, albeit weakly. He knew the maester had a point.

"No one likes to be used, Jon, and that's the impression you left. If you want to get along with him, you'll have to put up some effort. He isn't Mance. He's not getting anything out of teaching you."

 _He'd be dead if I didn't need a metalbending teacher_ , he wanted to say, but then he realized Aemon was right. He may have been the one to orchestrate Jaime's sentence change, but the man belongs to the Night's Watch, not to him. There were no shortage of tasks for him to do, even without Jon in the picture. He gains nothing else from training him. _I'm so used to people helping me solely for my status as Avatar, it never occurred to me Jaime may not understand it, or even care about it. The Avatar is not a popular legend in the South; Aemon and Othell told me that more than once._

He concluded he should at least try to get Jaime to see him in a more friendly light. Show him he wasn't simply helping a boy who was claiming to be the world's savior, but a boy who had more power than he should, and for everyone's sake, should learn to control it. _This is no child's play_ , he reminded himself. _People have already begun to be found mysteriously dead north of the Wall._ _I need to be ready, and Jaime is important for it._

The big question was _how_ he'd do it. He has made friends in the Night's Watch his entire life, but not under those circumstances. He never felt a _need_ for those friendships, only a feeling of content of having close companions nearby. The only other time he ever felt a need to be close to someone was with Ygritte, but that was a _completely_ different matter. He is not in love with Jaime.

 _Ygritte. Maybe she'd know how to help… oh, no, she wouldn't_. There are many things about Ygritte that he loves, but her social skills are _not_ among them. She is blunt and irreverent, laughs louder than half of the men he knows, and has no trouble with curses—a trait Arya has picked on, according to Aunt Catelyn. He finds it all lovely, but… not exactly useful at the moment. _If I tell her about my mild problem with Jaime, she'll just tell me to 'man up' and work this out, without giving any practical advice._ Not that she'd be saying anything untrue.

After overthinking the matter for the night, he decides a good first step is to engage in conversation, like he did in their trip from White Harbor to the Gift. Jaime seemed to have liked to share a piece of his story, and Jon figures he has a _lot_ more to tell if he just asks. So he does. The man is surprised at his question, but indulges anyway.

He talks about Tyrion, Cersei and Tywin, how it was to grow up being the only one to truly love all of them—Tyrion wasn't loved by anyone else, and therefore gave his affections entirely to him, while Tywin ignored Cersei, who in turn resented her father. He mentions his time as Lord Crakehall's squire, how the now deceased man taught him _absolutely everything_ he should know about fight and survival

"Wait", he interrupts him one day. "You know how to sew?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Yes. You don't carry a servant around to sew your ruined clothes in war camps, you know. Don't tell me you don't know."

He fights a blush. "Some people _tried_ to teach me, more than once. It was disastrous."

At that, Jaime gives him a half-grin and pats him on the shoulder. "It is easier with metalbending. You _shouldn't_ have to use it for sewing, but for me it was very helpful. Once you learn how to shape metal into even the most intricate forms, moving a needle around becomes child's play. Of course, the ladies are a hundred times better. I'm only good for mending torn clothes."

"Hopefully one day I'll be good for _just that_ too", he says sincerely.

* * *

Once, he takes Jaime along on a trip to the Gift. He visits the place every five or seven days, not only to see Ygritte, but to practice water and mudbending. No bloodbenders crossed the wall with Mance, so that particular specialty is still lacking in his training. He might one day ask Theon Greyjoy to teach him, at least the basics.

"You could have stayed with them if you wanted", Jon tells him on the way. "The village is hidden from the crown's eyes, and I doubt anyone would come to check if you really joined the Night's Watch."

Jaime grimaces. "Two hours with them was enough to make me think _fondly_ of the Night's Watch. No, I'd rather freeze my balls, thank you."

He laughs. "They are not that bad once you get to know them. You were just annoyed because we were all talking cryptically."

"Yeah, that too. I don't miss those first days at all."

Tormund is the one who greets them. He and Jon have formed a genuine friendship over the years, despite the age and cultural gap. Tormund had three sons, his firstborn being only two years younger than him, and, for all his smiles and jokes, he still mourned his partner.

Giantsbane has liked Jaime from the start, since he found out he was 'kingslayer and 'sisterfucker'. He deemed the man hilarious, and Tormund was never one to miss a joke. The knight did not reciprocate those feelings, but Jon figures it is a matter of time. Jaime has a tendency for japes as well; they'll find common ground.

For that reason, he doesn't feel guilty in leaving Lannister alone with the free folk when he meets Ygritte. They go to her tent—an advantage of their settlement is that they can have individual tents, for there is more than enough space for them—and fill each other in with updates.

"Dalla's pregnant", she announces. "Mance is beyond excited, but he tries to hide it. As if the entire village doesn't know he always wanted a child. How's your training with Ser Sisterfucker going?"

He tells her about his lessons and his talks with Jaime—who is never called by anything other than Sisterfucker by the Free Folk, thanks to Ygritte. Soon, however, they stop talking and begin to kiss. He doesn't leave her tent until sunrise.

Now, they don't really have sex, not in the typicasense. The fear of fathering a child before even knowing what his mission as Avatar will be is enough to stop him from going inside her, so they find other ways to bring pleasure to each other. The first times were clumsy, and they laughed at their own inability half of the time, but… well, they have practice now.

When they meet for breakfast, Jaime stares at him with wide eyes. "Don't ever leave me alone with these people ever again", he pleads. Jon just laughs and pats him on the shoulder.

* * *

Their training time is not lessened by their leisure time together. Jaime chose to have him trained on a single ability per day—unlike uncle Benjen, who would switch training styles abruptly, to keep him alert. One day, the former Kingsguard has him bend a sword—a common one, not Longclaw—to make it longer, large, thicker. Another day, he shows him how to find metal in the ground and extract it. There are days focused on arm movements, and days focused on footwork.

He fails more often than not. The sword doesn't seem to obey his commands at all for days, and when it does, it's turned into a mess that only makes Jaime laugh his ass off. The man guffaws when Jon claims to feel small rocks underground, but is unable to levitate them. Donan Noye has forbidden him to enter the forge until he is minimally good at weapon making, and Jaime is notoriously amused at that.

However, not all their interactions during training are of mockery. The Lannister man genuinely praises his progress over the weeks, and sometimes even offers some comfort. "It took me years to learn all of this", he says one morning.

"I'm afraid I don't have _years_ to spare", he replies, "not anymore." Jaime frowns, and he clarifies. "I'm not sure if you've heard, but the last ranging group has gone missing."

"The one that had Will, Gared and that Royce non bender? Yeah, I heard something last night, that they should have gone back by now. What does it have anything to do with your bending training?"

He sighs. "Even before you came to the Wall, there have been reports on wildlings going missing, alive or dead. The Free Folk who is still beyond the Wall are burning their dead rather than burying them, and there are rumours they found a cemetery destroyed. Mance says it might be a sign that the Others are returning."

Jaime nods, although his frown doesn't leave his face. He has heard about the Others after taking the black, but he is mostly skeptical about the tales. "No one has _seen_ them, though, have they?" Jon shakes his head. "Then it could be anything. Other wildlings could be behind these weird events. If there is a… rival tribe, or something, they might be aiming for scaring the enemies away."

"I hope you're right."

However, his fear increases when Tormund shows up with a worried expression and a man in black. _Gared_. "He was running like a madman", the wildling declares. "Normally, we don't take turncloaks back here, but… I think he needs to be heard."

Mormont follows his advice and interrogates the man in the ice cells. He calls for a debrief after executing the man. "He _begged_ me to take his life, in the end", he says, "after I asked where he was planning to go. He started citing names of places, going further and further south, until there was only Sothoryos, and then he changed his mind, claiming there is nowhere to go that is safe."

"What happened to him?", Ser Locke asks, voicing what everyone is thinking. At his side, Samwell shifts nervously.

"He claims they were attacked by dead people with blue eyes", Mormont replies. "Will and Royce were killed, and Will was revived right after. He claims he has never seen anything so horrific in his life."

Tarly gulps, Jaime's jaw clenches, and Jon finds his feet very entertaining. Gared's descriptions fit what one calls 'wights', animated corpses ruled by the Others. _If that is true…_

At the end of the meeting, Mormont tasks the builders and Jaime with fortifying the Wall from inside. "It's not a work to be done in just one day, I know. But the sooner we begin, the better."

Before they retire for the night, Jaime turns to him. "You are going with me tomorrow", he tells him.

* * *

The metal structure that helps holding the ice together has been in dire need of fortifications, and doing so is a delicate work. "You don't want to expand it too much", Jaime explains as he does it, "because you'll weaken it if you do. Ideally, you have _extra_ metal to merge with it, but not only we don't have it, it's impossible to add it without breaking the ice. So we do what we can."

They are in the ice cells, alone. The builders are in on the top, a level that has been ignored for too long. The underground is the level with most metal, so they start from there and go up, going the builders' opposite direction.

Jaime is seemingly shaken by last night's reunion; he doesn't make small talk as he usually does. Jon decides it's better to distract him a bit. "Have you ever met my father?", he asks.

The knight tenses, and for a moment Jon thinks of asking him to ignore his question, but he turns back to normal almost immediately. "Of course I did. I spent three years in King's Landing."

"How was he?" This is the first time he spends time with someone who came in actual contact with his natural father. Neither his uncles nor his aunt have ever talked to him, and have only seen him from afar. The only Stark to truly interact with him had been his mother.

It takes a while for Jaime to answer. "I think the right word is… melancholic. He brooded a lot. He liked to sing and read, but he was also a fine warrior. He showed better firebending skills than his mother, although I can't say whether it was because he was more capable or because Queen Rhaella didn't show off her bending as much. Given her husband, I wouldn't be surprised if it was the latter case."

Queen Rhaella's husband… King Aerys. The Mad King. His grandfather. The king Jaime killed. Jon doesn't really want to hear about him; talking about Rhaegar is hard enough already. "Has… has he ever shown signs of madness?"

"No", the reply comes without hesitation. "Not in front of me. He was the opposite of his father, in every way that mattered. He… he told me, right before going to the Trident, that he wanted to change things in the… council, I think. It sounded like he wanted to implement reforms. Of course, the only change that happened was one of dynasty. But no, he never looked mad. Why do you ask?"

There is genuine curiosity in his voice, as if he couldn't imagine why Jon would ever consider the possibility Rhaegar was not sane. So, he decides to be frank. "Maester Aemon and Rhaegar would often exchange letters regarding the Avatar. The prince found out about prophecies on the Avatar's return, and… he wanted to make them come true."

It's the first time, since he began working, that Jaime turns to face him. "What did he do?" There is some dread in his voice, Jon realizes.

"It's not that hard to guess", he replies, frowning, "but, well. Have you ever heard of any of those prophecies?"

"Only the one Cersei's septa said. Something about the Warrior returning to save us from eternal winter, or something."

"And the Warrior is a firebender. Aunt Catelyn was the one to tell me about the Faith's beliefs. Anyway, there are many, from many religions and cultures. Maester Aemon once thought my father would be the Avatar reborn, since he fit most aspects of the prophecy about the 'prince that was promised'. But, when he turned out to be an ordinary firebender… Rhaegar thought it was a sign. He may not have _been_ the Avatar, but it was his destiny to ensure his arrival to the world."

He proceeds to explain about the 'song of ice and fire' prophecy, about the 'three-headed dragon', and how Rhaegar pierced everything together to reach a conclusion: 'I must impregnate Lyanna Stark'.

That last part makes Jaime _stop_ his work and really turn to face him, full-body. "You mean to tell me Prince Rhaegar triggered a _war_ just because he wanted the Avatar to be born from his seed?", he asks.

Jon huffs and replies, "Aye, and it _worked_. That little shit."

The knight runs a hand through his golden hair. "Gods. No wonder you asked me if he was mad."

He nods. "I've always wanted to know someone who had some proximity to him, but it seemed everyone who fit that category was long gone. I… I always deemed him either mad or stupid, for doing everything he did."

Jaime takes a deep breath and opens his mouth to reply, but stops midway. A sound comes from… somewhere in the corridor. He can't tell where. He turns around. Nothing to see, but steps are approaching them. He turns back, fully intending on asking Jaime when he thinks they should do, but nothing comes out of his mouth.

A man stands behind Lannister, dressed in black, covered in snow and dirt—and blue-eyed. _The Royce guy. He's…_

There is no time to think. "Jaime!", he wills himself to shout. The other man turns around and jumps back when he sees the wight—who launches himself at them.

Jaime draws his sword and begins to fight, but undead Royce has his own sword too, and death has not made him unlearn how to use it. Steel clashes against steel, too fast for him to fully understand what's happening. Death hasn't slowed Royce down, and he actually seems swifter than before.

Suddenly, Jaime loses his sword. He keeps swinging away from Royce's sword, but he still gets injured on his shoulder. His cry of pain wakes Jon from his paralysis. _I have to do something!_

He does the first thing he thinks of: he takes a deep breath and _charges_. Royce soon catches fire, and a hollow scream echoes in the corridor.

Jaime takes several steps behind. "What are you _doing_?", he hisses. "He may die again, but this whole corridor will fall too. Put the fire down!"

He's right, but Jon can't risk leaving the wight 'alive', so he grabs Longclaw, lights it on fire and runs into Royce, torning his head from his body before extinguishing the flames.

They wait endless minutes to be sure the wight is dead for good. Then, he hears Jaime grabbing his sword back. "Take the head", he says, a hand on his own shoulder, pressing the wound. "We need to show this to Mormont."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, plot is moving forward!  
> Jon will probably leave the Wall anytime now. What do you think will push him to it? And how do you think his journey is going to go? I want to know your thoughts!


	8. Arya I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya and Sansa follow their father to King's Landing and are introduced to court life.

As much as she dreads the life that awaits her in King's Landing, the journey to get there is not half as bad as she feared. Sansa stays close, and the two practice their bending to get used to the drier air of the South.

"Guess the tables are turned", her sister says once, after they pass through Riverrun. "Bending used to be easier for me than it was for you and Robb. Now _I'm_ the one struggling."

"You'll learn", she replies. "Father is a master icebender wherever he is."

Sansa smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes, and she knows her sister is remembering the story Jon once told them, about aunt Lyanna's death after giving birth to him. Father had wanted to spare them, but Arya was curious, so she pestered Jon on one of their visits to the Wall until he told them and Robb about it. "The further you go south", he said, "the drier the air gets. In Dorne, it's _too_ dry, and more often than not you have trouble bending any kind of water. Mother spent _hours_ trying to summon ice to heal herself, and not even Uncle could save her in time."

Hopefully, they'll never face such a desperate need in King's Landing, but she understands Sansa's worry. Drawing ice from air is even harder than drawing water, so her sister would face more trouble than her if such need arises. _Father promised us King's Landing is safe, especially now that the Lannisters are gone_ , she remembers. _But I don't like being so far from home, from the North, and neither does Sansa._

It wasn't always like this. Until a couple years ago, Sansa's dream was to go South; she even dared dream to marry the heir prince and become queen. That all changed when Mother took her and Robb to visit uncle Edmure in Riverrun, and she realized her bending weakened when she moved to warmer climates. If there is one thing Sansa loves more than being a lady, it's being a _bender_ , so since then she's given up any southron ambitions.

She remembers seeing the relief in Father's face when Sansa said that. _She might inherit Winterfell, if Robb and Bran are not well received by the North._ The matter of succession in her home has always been debated, for as long as she can remember. She knows all arguments by now: Winterfell usually is passed from male to male, but icebenders are priority over other benders, and older siblings are usually favored. However, their situation is kind of new, since Starks usually marry into icebender Houses. Father has postponed succession discussions for as long as he could, but after Bran fell he's been clearly facing an internal dilemma.

And that is why Sansa is going to King's Landing with him, after he accepted to be Hand of the King. She has no idea why he willingly left the North, but she knows he won't discuss this with her if he can avoid it; her father has always tried to shield them from political drama, and only drags Robb and Sansa into it when it's inevitable—like now. Sansa's experience in the capital is bound to be useful, either if she does become Lady of Winterfell, or if she marries and leaves home.

She knows all of this because Father talked to both of them at the same time. As for Arya, he claims to be taking her so Sansa won't feel alone, but she highly suspects it's because she is _too wild_ for everyone's tastes. Having befriended Jon's partner Ygritte soon after she and the other wildling crossed the Wall, she has copied much of her attitude and mannerisms—which led to many complaints from her mother. Father probably thinks spending time away from the Free Folk will teach her to behave more lady-like; never mind that she has never behaved as such.

 _Maybe I'm overthinking, and his primary reason for bringing me along truly is for Sansa's sake._ It's not that bad of an idea. The two sisters may not be tied to the hip, but ever since Sansa gave up her dreams of going south, they have gotten closer. She has helped her stand her lessons with Septa Mordane, and Arya has taught her a few fighting tricks—as much as she can anyway, given their inherent style differences.

The journey gets decidedly better after Riverrun. Not only do they stay the night in her mother's former home, it's where the Lannisters part ways. Lord Tyrion is nice company, and Tommen is not so bad, but Myrcella barely says anything at all, and Joffrey is a _motherf_ —oops, a _nightmare_. He seems to not have caught on the fact that he is officially a bastard, even though he has lost the little respect he had for King Robert. He tries to order everyone around to do things for him, and throws tantrums when he is denied—so, all the time.

"I can't believe I found him charming in Winterfell", Sansa whispers once, after one of those tantrums.

Arya laughs. "Glad to see you coming to your senses!"

Her sister tries to befriend Myrcella, but it seems the girl has gone inside herself to cope. Arya doesn't know how to deal with this kind of problem, so she leaves the girl alone and goes to play with Tommen instead.

Another huge—figuratively and literally speaking—problem is the Hound—whose real name, if she heard right, is Sandor Clegane. One side of his face has burn marks, but that's not what bothers her. The problem is that he mistreats everyone who is not a Lannister or a Stone, especially the servants who travel with them. _Any lord should be ashamed of having such a man as their sworn shield._ Sansa once told her Clegane was never knighted, and she thinks it's fitting; he doesn't deserve the title.

Tyrion is polite enough to bid them farewell when they part ways. When Sansa goes to Myrcella to say goodbye, Arya follows so she can bid hers to Tommen. The former princess looks like she's about to cry. "What troubles you, Myrcella?", Sansa asks.

"She's afraid of our grandfather", Joffrey replies, coming from behind his sister. His tone is surprisingly neutral. "She fears he'll lash out on us for what our… _parents_ have done."

Sansa is polite, but slightly cold. "Is there good reason for this fear?", she asks.

Joffrey nods. "Lord Tywin's wrath is not to be underestimated", he admits, and Arya realizes he's scared too. "And uncle Tyrion has never been good at taming him. No one is, actually."

"I'm sure the four of you can find a way to face him", Arya adds. "If you all work together."

Tommen gulps, Myrcella sobs, and Joffrey scoffs. _Well, I tried._

Robert drinks to their departure, and neither sisters look forward to seeing the result, so they sneak out to their shared chambers in the castle. "How do you think our lives are going to be?", her sister asks.

"Boring", she replies immediately. "At least until we learn to properly bend."

"King's Landing is a portuary city", Sansa offers. "It may not be so hard there."

"Still, what are we going to do? At least you _like_ doing all those… lady activities. I have no patience for any of them, and it's not like we'll be alone for us to do it our way."

Her sister frowns. "Are we not going to be alone? The king has no wife and no children now, so there are no ladies-in-waiting there anymore. Unless we are allowed to keep baseborn women around, there is nobody to keep us company but ourselves."

Arya blinks. She hasn't thought of that. Well, it's a good thing.

* * *

Her contempt at spending most of her time with Sansa—she already had dozens of plans in mind—is gone the moment they arrive at the Red Keep. King Robert's brother Renly—according to Sansa, lord of Storm's End, while the other brother is lord of Dragonstone—greets them all, congratulates her father on his new position as Hand, and introduces them to Margaery Tyrell.

"I'm sure you are lamenting the loss of your wife and children, my dear brother", he says, but it sounds _so_ fake, Arya has to hide behind Sansa so no one will see she's failing to suppress a giggle. "But alas, the realm needs stability, and an heirless king will not do."

Her father argues that it's too soon for a betrothal, that they should evaluate all possibilities. Lord Renly agrees—though that _also_ sounds fake—but adds that the Targaryen kings never bothered themselves much with the Reach, and marrying a Tyrell will show that Robert is different from the dynasty that preceded him.

"It's too early in the morning for any of this", the king finally proclaims, even though it's actually past lunch time. "We have much to do before discussing who I'll share my bed with."

 _Is the king saying something… sensible?_ Gods, maybe the world _is_ nearing its end; good thing Jon is already grown up.

She and Sansa are taken to what is called the Maidensvault. She remembers someone—either Septa Mordane, her mother or her sister—telling her the story of King Baelor's sisters, how they spent years locked up there, until one of them finally managed to burn the door down without setting the entire place on fire. They are given the same chambers, much to her relief. After meeting not only Lord Renly, but Lord Varys and the so-called Littlefinger, she doesn't like the idea of being separated from her sister.

Their first day is occupied with unpacking, so they are not properly introduced to Margaery Tyrell until the next morning, when a servant comes to say she has asked for a meeting with them. "Sorry, Arya", Sansa says when she closes the door, "but you'll have to dress up nicely."

She huffs. "Well, guess I would have to wear the gowns Mother made me for at _some_ point." She wishes it wouldn't be so soon, but one look at her sister's face, and she knows Sansa is afraid of going there alone. "What do you think she wants from us?"

"I have no idea", her sister answers as she picks a gown for herself. "Maybe she just wants to be nice. Maybe she's looking for an alliance, so we can convince Father she's a good match for King Robert. Or maybe it's something else entirely. I know how politics work in the North, but the South is an enigma."

"Mother is Southern. Hasn't she ever told you anything?"

"Riverrun has always been more of a… middle zone, from what I've gathered. I'm not sure the same rules apply."

Arya frowns. "Rules?"

Sansa sighs. "Traditions are unspoken rules, I guess. There is no _law_ , but you don't want to go against them either. At least, that's what Mother used to say."

Sometimes, Arya is caught by surprise by how her sister changed over the course of two years. Old Sansa would be too busy fawning over her new life at court to even _pay_ attention to her sister, let alone have a real conversation. Of course, Arya changed too, even if significantly less. Old Arya wouldn't _care_ about this kind of subject, and would have run away from the mere prospect of meeting a highborn lady, ignoring her sister's silent pleas.

She dresses herself rather clumsily; she is not used at all to gowns. Sansa helps her, and as she fixes her hair, Arya asks, "Hey, Sansa, do you think you can do that little trick where you cover the hair with frozen snowflakes?"

"There is water for washing our hands, so yes. Do you want it on yours?"

"If I'm going to pretend to be pretty, I want to at least look _Northerly_ pretty."

At that, her sister laughs. "Well, if Father speaks the truth that you look like Aunt Lyanna, then you _already are_ a Northern beauty. But wait a bit, I'll fetch the water."

She remembers the few tales Father has been willing to share about his deceased sister, Jon's mother. At first, his reluctance could be easily excused by fear that his young children wouldn't keep a secret, but over time it became clear the memories of her are just too sad for him to recall them aloud. Most of what she knows about her aunt came from her cousin.

Aunt Lyanna remains a mystery to Arya, and will probably remain so. What did the current king do that made Lyanna despise him so much, to the point she chose to run away with Rhaegar and spend her last months of life locked away in a tower? According to Father, she had been a wild thing, with 'wolf blood' running strong in her veins. Uncle Benjen claimed that, though their father had wanted to wed his children to southerners, none of them shared his ideas, so why did Lyanna willingly go further south?

Also, did her aunt know about the prophecy that led Rhaegar to find her and bed her? Did they love each other, or was it all for the sake of bringing the Avatar to the world? Sadly, her father never managed to get answers from Lyanna, and no one bothered to keep Rhaegar alive for questioning. _Not that anyone but them could have possibly foreseen this information would be useful in the future._ But is it, though? Jon is here, already training to become a fully realized Avatar; does his parents' story really matter?

Her reverie is interrupted by Sansa's voice. "There, you're all set. Let's go meet Lady Margaery."

* * *

Margaery is not the only one waiting for them. They are introduced to her grandmother, Lady Olenna Tyrell, born Redwyne—a waterbender. She is internally delighted at the information, but tries to mirror Sansa's courteous smile.

"Are both of you icebenders?", Lady Olenna asks, wasting little time with small pleasantries. _I like her_.

Sansa shakes her head. "No, my lady. Arya is a waterbender, like our mother and older brother. I'm an icebender."

The older woman takes a sip of her tea. "So, out of six children, how many icebenders did your father get?"

Arya blinks, confused for a moment, until she remembers Jon has been posing as her bastard half-brother to hide his identity as a Targaryen and as the Avatar. "Three", she answers, assuming she and Sansa must take turns in replying. "Sansa, Bran and Rickon icebend, while Robb and I waterbend."

"The bastard is a non bender, I suppose", Olenna says right after her reply. Both sisters nod. "It's for the best. I imagine things would be quite troublesome, had he become an icebender. Bastards are already a pain in women's ass, bender bastards even more."

"Grandmother!", Margaery exclaims, although the amused glint in her eyes implies that she is used to that behavior. "What will they think of us if you keep cursing like that?"

"They'll think the truth, of course", she replies easily. "I'm too old for fake courtesies, I'm sure they can understand that."

"We absolutely can", Sansa intervenes before Arya can open her mouth to say she doesn't like courtesy either.

Margaery and Olenna ask about their life in Winterfell and their expectations regarding King's Landing. Sansa is smooth in her replies, relieving Arya of most of the talking. She decides to simply pay attention to the two Tyrells in front of her, searching for any change in expression, anything that might give away hidden intentions. However, if those exist, they are well kept, for Margaery is as courteous as Sansa, and Olenna does act like 'she's too old for fake courtesies'.

At one point, Sansa seems to feel bold, for she asks about the wedding proposal of yesterday. Margaery is swift in her reply, "A marriage alliance between the Crown and House Tyrell would be highly beneficial for the realm. Besides, I'm a plantbender, and earthbending is stronger than plantbending when it comes to heritage, so it's a way for the king to ensure an earthbender will inherit the throne."

"But what about _you_ , my lady?", Sansa asks in return, channeling all the innocence she used to carry. "Are you excited about marrying the king?"

It takes a while for Margaery to answer. "Being Queen will enable me to do much work for the ones in need", she says. "I've always tried to improve the common folk's lives, back in Highgarden, but Father has… other matters to concern himself with. As Queen, I can do that without troubling my husband."

As truthful as she sounds, Arya is skeptical. _Too good to be true_ , she thinks. If her sister thinks the same, thought, she doesn't show, and instead praises the other woman's kind intentions. It goes unsaid that, at no point, Margaery talks about being _Robert's wife_. Then again, his first bethotred despised him to the point of fleeing her home, and his last wife would rather lay with her _twin brother_ than with him, so… the king's reputation is not really exciting. _Thank the gods I'm not in her place_.

Eventually, they bid their farewells and retire for their chambers. On their way, though, their father approaches them—or rather, Arya. "I have something for you", he says. "You can come see it too, Sansa. You might like it as well."

They nod and follow him to the training yard. "This is Syrio Forell", her father says. "He is a master waterbender from Braavos. If you wish, he can be your teacher. You should not go without training in your bending, even if it's not what we had in mind for you in Winterfell. I can train Sansa just fine, but you need your own instructor."

She smiles so wide it hurts after a while, and she hugs her father. "Thank you, thank you!" She then turns to the instructor. "When do we begin?"

The man grins. "Quite eager, aren't you?", he says, in a heavy accent that does nothing to hide his foreign origin. "Tomorrow, at sunrise. No dresses. A shirt and breeches."

She nods excitedly. From the corner of her eye, she sees Sansa smiling. _This day has turned a lot better now_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, a new bending style is mentioned. Obviously, plantbending is an earthbending style, just like metalbending. Details regarding it will appear later on, when we dwell more in Margaery's arc.  
> Next chapter is already written, but I'll revise it before posting it, because it's essentially backstory. Then we'll go back to Jon and the Wall.


	9. Bran I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bran may not walk again, but he'll fly.

_He's flying. It's the first thing he notices._

_Slowly, he gathers on_ why _he is flying. He is a dragon_ — _or rather, he's inside a dragon's body. Or_ is _he truly a dragon? At this point, he isn't sure. He doesn't waste much time wondering about it, though, for the scenery below him is simply breathtaking._

_Countless towers rise to the sky, of various colors and heights. Many of them are topless, though he cannot see what's inside. Below the towers, surrounding them, he sees rivers of lava. A paradise for a Dayne, he muses briefly as he flies around the towers. From a distance, he can see sphinxes decorating the streets._

_It takes a while for him to notice someone is on him; more precisely, he only does after he lands on top of a volcano, and the rider gets off him. It is a man, tall and slim, with white hair and beard. Despite the whiteness, he looks young, and his eyes are light purple. Must be Valyrian._

_That thought is what leads him to deduce he is, in fact, in_ _the Old Valyria. It all makes sense, and it fits the stories he's heard about the now extinct city. Is he dreaming of a distant past, then?_

 _The man turns away from him and walks around the volcano. He can make out human forms, and when he blinks, the forms are more distinguishable. There are men and women, all dressed in red robes, their heads adorned with what looks like pointy red hats; it's hard to tell with precision._ _He can hear voices, but, far as they are, he doesn't know what they are saying. He wishes he could control the dragon's body to approach them, but, no matter how hard he tries, it's impossible. If this is a glance at the past, he supposes he can't change a thing, even the dragon's position._

 _It takes a while, but the man comes back. "Fang", he calls. "Let's go home." He takes flight once again, and as he lets the man ride him, he distracts himself with the wondrous city below. He hears other dragons flying nearby, and he moves his eyes_ — _the only thing he_ can _move, he realizes_ — _to catch sight of them._

 _There are dozens flying around. Black, golden, silvery, green, blue, red… he even sees a pink dragon, and a purple one. He wonders who are the people riding them_ — _who is the man riding_ him _. A glance at his arms tells him he is inside a red dragon._

 _Eventually, they reach an opulent house_ — _not a castle, for it is too small, but it is too big to be a common house. Whoever his rider is, he has wealth. He lands on its top, and the man bids him goodnight as he climbs down. 'Who are you?', Bran wants to ask. But the dragon closes its eyes, and the dream ends._

* * *

" _The Sun Warriors have fallen!"_

" _All hail Phoenix King Ozai and his daughter, Fire Lady Azula!"_

" _Run! Run for your lives! We are doomed!"_

* * *

_He is now a different creature, unlike any other he has known before. He is big, heavy and furry, and his flight is slower than it was as a dragon. There is another rider on him, more precisely at the back of his neck. "C'mon, Appa", the rider says, and his voice is of a young boy. "Don't tease me, I know you can fly faster than this."_

_He doesn't go faster, though, which leads to the boy's dissatisfaction. "Appa, I'm going to be late!", he complains, and suddenly Bran realizes something: the boy is not speaking in Common Tongue._ _What language is he speaking then? Retrospectively, he realizes Fang's rider also spoke a foreign language, but it's easy to guess it was High Valyrian. Now, he doesn't know where he is, so he can't guess which language he hears the boy speak. How can he perfectly understand what is being said? Odd dreams, those of his._

_He eventually lands before five huge black forts. The boy jumps down and creates an airball to cushion his fall. 'Oh, he is an airbender'. Fang's rider did not bend while he was there, but he must have been a firebender, since he was a dragonrider._

_He watches the boy while he walks ahead. He is indeed young, no older than thirteen if he can judge from his back and his voice. He's bald, but there is something painted blue on the top of his head. He stops when he meets someone who is roughly his size. Given the person is wearing a dress, he guesses it's a girl, though he won't bet his coin on it. 'Who knows, maybe in this place men wear dresses.'_

_"Hey, Toph", he greets with a shoulder pat. "All set with the forts?"_

_"Ready for use, if that's what you mean, Twinkletoes", the person replies, and their voice does sound like one of a girl. A very young one. "Now, where is my payment?"_

_"I talked to the Opal Emperor earlier. You'll get a castle and a noble title. House Beifong of the Dawn. Sounds good, doesn't it?"_

_"Better than House Beifong of the Ghis. I'll redecorate the entire thing as soon as I set foot on it."_

_"...Please don't erect statues of yourself. It took hours for me to put them down last time you did it here."_

_"Well, I have to give you_ some _work, Twinkletoes. For someone who was so eager to build the five largest forts in the world, you barely spent your bending on it." Bran mentally frowns at that. If... 'Twinkletoes' is an airbender, how could he be useful in this endeavor? "Why did you want them built, anyway?"_

_It's the very question that plagues his mind at the moment. Twinkletoes (he hopes this is a nickname) lowers his head, and he nearly misses his answer. "...Something's coming, Toph. It's hard to explain, but... we need to be ready for when it comes."_

_Exhaustion seems to finally dawn on Appa, for it closes its eyes, and this dream ends as well._

* * *

_"Sokka, are you there?"_

_"Yes… where is he?"  
_

_"Gone. We must get out of here."_

_"Where to?"_

_"Home first, and then North. There is no time to waste."_

* * *

_Now he's an unicorn, and once again someone is riding him. From the war cries, it's a woman._ _He starts running fast, though he has no idea towards what. His rider keeps shouting, commanding the other unicorn riders. She speaks the Old Tongue; he remembers Old Nan teaching it enough to recognize it in the woman's voice. Where is he, and_ when _is he?_

 _Eventually, he sees forms ahead. As he runs, the forms are more clear. Giants polar bears approach. They are as pale as the snow below him, and their eyes are shining blue. It sends shivers through him, but he keeps running._ _Fire rays emerge from behind. Some blue-eyed bears catch fire, and those quickly fall. "Keep going, Mako, it's working!", the woman riding him shouts. "Bolin, break the ground below them, they can't swim!"_

" _What about me?", another woman asks from his left side._

" _You'll stay in charge of the front, Asami", his rider declares, oddly calm. "I'll be… busy." She then pats him. "Naga… I'm counting on you."_ _She then jumps out of him and lands on the icy ground in front of him. Roaring, she runs into the blue-eyed bears. As she runs, she starts glowing. What is happening?_

 _He can't answer that, for soon he can't see her anymore. The earth shatters below him (Bolin's doing, perhaps) and starts breaking. He tries to outrun the cracks, but he is not fast enough._ _As he goes underwater, Naga closes its eyes._

* * *

" _I guess… this is the end of the world."_

" _Ha! I'm sure the masters will love to learn that. Hey, this is where the world ends. Nothing but void ahead."_

" _Oh, shut up. We're lucky if we survive to tell the story."_

" _That… is true. But, maybe, if you kiss the Avatar for good luck…"_

" _I just might. We should make a stop at your place when we go back, by the way."_

" _I like the way you think, my love."_

* * *

_Now he is a fox. He is running around a dense,_ hot _forest. He can feel himself sweating, but this does not stop him._

 _Eventually, he reaches a treeless area. Something that looks like some sort of temple erupts from the ground, built in a black, oily stone. It seems small, although tall, and many stairs precede its entrance. On the top of said stairs, a woman stands. She is dressed in green robes, wearing a yellow tiara shaped like a half-circle. Her face is white, presumably from heavy make-up, and her lips are a dark shade of red. Her hair is black, shoulder-length._ _He can see all these details as he climbs the stairs to join her. When he rests on her side, he sees a huge crowd, seemingly all women, dressed in similar fashion, knelt down._

" _We are the daughters of Kyoshi", the woman at his side announces. She speaks in a foreign tongue that doesn't sound at all like his own, or High Valyrian, or Old Tongue, or whatever Twinkletoes spoke. It is entirely new. "Not by blood, for our savior has left no kin behind, but by spirit. Her legacy carries on within us. Let the memory of Kyoshi never be forgotten. Arise, Kyoshi Warriors!"_

_The women rise from the ground, and they cheer for themselves. He can feel the fox's ears go down, as if sad. Maybe it knew who this Kyoshi was?_

" _Our first mission", the woman proclaims, "is to find the new Avatar. Rangi has informed us no Valyrian newborn has shown promise, but it's only been a year and a half. There is hope yet."_

_The woman keeps talking, but the fox closes its eyes, and Bran braces himself for the new dream._

* * *

" _Ice and fire shall unite, not to destroy, but to blossom, and from their union shall come the song of ice and fire, the one of the Avatar returned, the one of the dawn…"_

" _From the silvers who do not know the elements, the all-powerful stallion who mounts the world shall rise…"_

" _The Father rose and fell against the winter, but the Warrior shall come to bless us with spring…"_

* * *

_He's a raven now, with no riders or owners he can take notice of. He flies above the Wall at a fast speed, passing through houses and villages, until he enters a cave._ _It's dark and full of branches and fallen leaves. He flies through them, until he reaches a rather unsettling sight._

 _A skeletal white man sits by two branches. He is surrounded by more branches, along with what looks like extensions of the cave's walls. He is expressionless, though it should not be surprising, given the absence of flesh covering his bones._ _When he speaks, his voice reverberates around the cave. "You saw the lives of Avatars past", he proclaims. "You must help the Avatar of today. You may not walk again, Bran Stark, but you'll fly, and high. Hurry boy. I'll show you a new bending, and you'll be the Avatar's last teacher."_

* * *

In the darkness, Bran opens his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I did promise mentions of Avatar characters in the tags.  
> So, before you ask: yes, the Avatars seen here are all that came long before Jon. Remember, the last one died in the Long Night, so these four all lived thousands of years ago.  
> All locations shown in the flashbacks are canon ones, described mostly in companion books like 'The World of Ice and Fire'. Their names will be revealed as the story progresses, but all scenes have clues about the place they are set in. If you want to guess, you can try searching in the Wiki of Ice and Fire; it's where I got most references, especially details I couldn't remember well.  
> If you have any questions that won't be too spoilery, I'll answer! But if you do want spoilers... tip: Jon will visit at least one of the four places shown in this chapter.


	10. Jaime II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Night's Watch begins to prepare themselves to face the return of the Others. Jon has a decision to make.

_To Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West._

_This is your son Jaime. I know I'm probably disgraced in your eyes, and I wouldn't write to you if the situation didn't demand it from me. I'll be blunt: the Others are real. Those legends we've been told to scare us as children all have basis in reality. I've heard rumours of their return since I arrived at the Wall, but never believed them until recently. I fought a_ _wight_ _, Father. A man who used to be a black brother like me and had gone missing days prior showed up not long after his ranging companion told us he was murdered. He had haunting blue eyes, when his alive self was brown-eyed, and he… well, he simply looked dead. Or, undead, come to think of it._

 _I'm not writing this because I am a scared child in search of parental comfort. The Wall is the only thing standing between the realm and the Others, and those are getting closer. The threat is real, and we need to defend ourselves. The Night's Watch is willing to accept men without obliging them to say the vows_ — _a temporary service, so to speak; they'll be released as soon as the threat is over. We are already recruiting wildlings on these terms._

_Please, send us skilled fighters and benders. The Night's Watch is in dire need of it._

The letter is not written by him, of course; his handwriting is messy enough without a shoulder injury. Jon does the job for him, while Benjen writes to his brother and Samwell writes to other great houses. Those letters are written after a reunion with the entire Night's Watch, even those from Eastwatch-by-the-Sea and Shadow Tower.

Royce's head is shown to everyone, and he and Jon give their report on the fight against the wight. The black brothers from the other castles are debriefed on Gared's story. "Winter is here", Benjen declares, "and the Others are coming with it."

"We need more forces", Pyke, commander of Eastwatch, says. "Reactivate other castles, like Westwach and Queensgate. Find ways to gather more men. We have the wildlings on our side, don't we?"

They debate a number of ways to recruit more members, but, to Jaime, they seem to be forgetting one detail. "Few people are willing to take the black nowadays", he says, standing up. His shoulder still hurts, but it's already getting better; he'll heal in less than a moonturn, he's sure. "It's damn cold here, for starters, and it's going to get worse with time. Not many men are looking forward to give up their names, their lands and stay celibate for the rest of their lives. Telling them about the Others won't help much, I'm afraid. _I_ was skeptical about it until I saw the wight, and I've been living here for months."

"What do you suggest, then?", the Lord Commander asks.

"If we offer the choice of a… temporary service of sorts, people will be more inclined to accept. The Free Folk, for starters. They know the threat as well as we do. If we allow them to keep their lifestyle while training and preparing, they'll be eager to help."

He has thought about it the whole night, and deems his idea pretty sensible. Many raise their voice to agree, while some argue against it. Mormont seems convinced, though. "A temporary service is likely our best option. That way, we can release them as soon as we defeat the Others. Forcing everyone to take life-lasting vows will be detrimental for us in the long run."

 _If by some miracle we convince the entire realm to send men for us, we won't have food for everyone,_ he guesses. _The lords might send food of their own, but only while we're fighting. If we keep the men after the battle, we probably won't get enough resources to maintain them. That's why Mormont takes my idea so quickly._

They decide to send letters to a few houses: Stark, Umber, Reed, Lannister, Yarwyck, Mormont, Royce, Arryn, Hightower, Greyjoy and Tully. "The Starks and the Umbers are the most likely to aid us immediately", Mormont says. "The Boltons are close, but they have never cared for the Night's Watch, so I won't count on them yet. Some of us were born in noble houses; luckily, our families will believe in our words and send aid."

"Why not send word to the king?", Grenn asks.

"We'll send a raven to the Hand of the King", Benjen replies. "Who happens to be my brother. There will be a letter to him and another to the Stark in Winterfell." _Robb Stark_ , he assumes.

A few more details are discussed, and they are dismissed. Jaime approaches Jon, who is talking to his uncle. "Meet me in the forges after dinner", he says.

Jon frowns. "Donan kicked me out, remember?"

The memory makes him chuckle, but he soon turns serious again. This _is_ a serious matter, after all. "I'll talk him into letting you inside. Don't worry. Also, I need you to write the letter to my father. I can barely write with this shoulder."

He dictates his letter to Jon, while Benjen writes his own to Lord Eddard. After the boy leaves, Stark approaches him. "What are you planning?", he asks.

"Jon will have to leave the Wall soon, I assume", he replies easily; he has thought about this overnight too. "I don't know if anyone will go with him, or who, but he must not only show himself to the world, but master the other bending styles. Learning metalbending won't exactly help him master earth, and he has no clue on how to airbend. Not to mention things like plantbending, sandbending, lavabending, bloodbending…" He sighs. "He can't stay here forever, Benjen."

The man nods. "I agree. I fear he has stayed here for too long, even. But what does it have to do with him going to the forge?"

"He needs to improve on weapon making, and fast. He has Longclaw, which is the best weapon he could have gotten, but he needs at least a shield. A metal one, that he can adjust to whatever form he needs. And a stronger armor than the one he has now." There is an entire list on his mind of things that may be useful to Jon when he leaves the Wall, but he knows he has to prioritize. Shield first, then armor, then the rest if they have time.

He yawns on dinner, but his thoughts won't let him feel even the slightest of tiredness. The battle against the wight keeps coming to his mind, and though it was far from his hardest, it was the scariest. _Scarier than facing the Smiling Knight, and that's saying something._ If he had died back then, it would be sad, but he'd be buried and his family would move on. If the wight had killed him, he would likely go back to life as a wight himself. _What is dead may never die_ , the ironborn like to say, _but I don't think this is what they meant. The dead should stay dead._

Convincing Donan of letting Jon back in the forge is easy; all he needs to promise is that he'll reverse whatever damage the boy may do. "He's been doing better these last days", Jaime tells him. "I doubt he'll be the disaster he was last time."

And indeed he isn't. Jon's first attempt at making a shield is clumsy, and earns him a good laugh, but his second is already something useful. Neither of them are looking forward to sleep, so they stay the night there. By sunrise, Jon has a strong and hand-fitting shield. _Only an Avatar could improve their bending so quickly_ , he muses, thinking, not for the first time, how crazy his life has been since he escaped execution.

"I'll ask Maester Aemon to send a letter to the Citadel", he says when they leave the forge. "Ask for bending scrolls. It's not the same as real training, but…"

Jaime frowns. "You think Mormont will keep you here?"

Jon turns to him, eyebrows raised. "Won't he? The Others are coming _here_. Isn't _here_ where I should be?"

"And pray an earthbender and an airbender will show up and train you?", he retorts. "Scrolls are good for when you already _know_ how to bend. You've never airbent once in your life, and although your metalbending is good, it doesn't help all that much with earth." He spent enough time with his earthbender brothers-at-arms in the Kingsguard—not to mention King Robert himself—to gather the movements are far from the same. Metalbending is more… elegant and artistic, so to say. One can't simply make the same moves and expect it to work.

"I've never gone beyond Winterfell", Jon says, tensing up. "And I don't know who to trust. If I'm kidnapped, or someone decides to kill me for a prize, all of this will be for naught."

He doesn't think he has ever seen so much fear in the boy's eyes, not even when they fought the wight. "You don't have to tell everyone you encounter you are the Avatar", he says. "Just those who'll train you. And you already are stronger than most of the realm. You can defend yourself."

It doesn't seem to ease Jon's mind, however, and it worries Jaime. _How can he save the world, if he's afraid of leaving home?_ He needs more time; they can only hope said time is available.

* * *

He is testing a newly-forged axe—not his weapon of choice, but some black brothers are more at ease with it than with a sword, so he has to make some—when he sees Robb Stark. He leaves the axe aside as he approaches the party that comes with him, curiosity getting the best of him. _He has already sent extra men to the Wall_ , he thinks. _What else does he have to do here? What could possibly make the Stark in Winterfell leave his castle?_ And he's not alone. Two short people—cragnomen, if their clothes are anything to go by—get out from the wagon as well.

Robb spares him a glance before reaching Jon. "Cousin", he calls. "We have urgent news." He then turns back. "Bring him."

Before Jon, or anyone else, can ask what's going on, a giant man takes a human figure from the small wagon. _Bran Stark_ , he realizes, taking a sharp breath. _He's awake._ That still doesn't explain what they are doing here. _Shouldn't he be recovering?_

Bran is placed in a wheeling chair and taken to Jon, who is staring at him with wide eyes and mouth agape. The boy actually turns to Jaime, and gestures for him to come closer. He frowns and points at himself, unable to speak. Bran nods, and he takes the final steps. The Stark boy doesn't waste time or words. "You were the one who pushed me on accident, right?"

Closing his eyes, he nods. "I'm not angry at you", he hears the boy say, and he opens his eyes to look at him. "But you should hear this too. You should know you had a hand in this, in a way."

He glances at Robb, who is tense, but seemingly not at him. Jon's jaw is clenched. Bran ignores all of this, and begins to speak again. "I spent all these months comatose, from what I've been told. But I didn't spend them completely _unconscious_.

"At first I thought those were mere dreams, as if I was asleep. But they felt too _real_ , too vivid. I was never myself, but an animal. Sometimes a dragon, other times a fox, a lemur, an unicorn, a raven, a bear… I often couldn't even tell what animal I was, actually. But I was always inside an animal's body.

"I couldn't _move_ the animal I was in, or interact with the scenery. I could only watch, so I did. The places I saw… my imagination is not so great to make them up. I recognized one of those places as _Old Valyria_ , for example. Sometimes it felt like I was in the North, but the exact place was hard to pinpoint. Half of the time, though, I couldn't tell. They all looked ancient, as if I was seeing events that happened too long ago, and a bit exotic."

He began detailing the things he saw, and others started gathering around. He saw Mormont, Samwell Tarly and Maester Aemon coming closer, listening attentively to Bran. He finds himself unable to divert his own attention from the boy's tales. He speaks of mysterious places and events, but one thing is clear: they concern _past Avatars._ Gods. He didn't wake up today for this.

Finally, he describes a cave, seemingly located beyond the Wall, where a skeletal man announced to be waiting for him. "He was the last thing I saw before waking up from my coma", he says, "but I often see him in my sleep. He has given me directions to reach his cave, and insists I must find him. He claims he'll teach me to get these visions, so I can teach Jon. He claims I'll be the Avatar's last teacher."

Jon gulps, and he fights an urge to gulp too. "Who is he?", he asks, because for all he knows, this man mgiht be an Other.

"He calls himself Bloodraven", he replies, and Jaime chokes on air. _What?_

* * *

Bran goes to talk privately with Jon, Benjen, Robb, Aemon and Mormont, and, when they return, it is announced a small party will be sent beyond the Wall to find _Bloodraven_ 's cave.

It's surreal. He remembers tales about Brynden Voyd, King Aegon IV's non bender bastard who was once rumoured to have 'a thousand eyes and one'. He had been sent to the Wall by Aemon's brother, rose to Lord Commander, and disappeared on a ranging. _He cannot be an Other, only a wight, and wights don't talk_. Perhaps Bloodraven _has_ become something else entirely, since he allegedly learned a new bending form: _spirit_ —whatever in seven hells _spiritbending_ entails.

Jon offers to go along, but Bran is firm. "He said I am to be your _last_ teacher", he says. "You must master the other elements before I can be of any use to you. But he claims you can only become a fully realized Avatar when you learn spiritbending."

"We'll protect him", the small girl—he learned the two small siblings were Meera and Jojen Reed, sent by Lord Howland as an answer to the Night's Watch's pleas—says. "Our mudbending is fine, and with Hodor and Benjen we can defend ourselves with no trouble."

 _Mudbending_ , he muses. _Is it going to be useful against wights?_ He doesn't know much about that particular waterbending form, only that is the most practiced one near the Neck. _I wonder why Howland Reed sent his children instead of soldiers_. It is often said the cragnomen have visions of the future. _Did he foresee this?_

He knows it's useless to ask; the Reed siblings are too focused on Bran to pay him any mind. Soon the ranging party is organized, and he finds himself bidding them farewell as they leave for their journey. "I hope you can forgive me someday", he tells Bran.

"There is nothing to forgive", the boy replies. "It was an accident. And... Who knows, if Bloodraven is right, I might even thank you for crippling me one day." And with that, he parts, leaving a wide-eyed Jaime behind.

So far, Jaime has only been north of the Wall once, and it was a short trip to Craster's Keep in an attempt to convince the man to come to the Gift. That disgusting old hag was unmovable, however, and he soon returned, he and their companions empty-handed. He is usually too busy for ranges; his time and energy is all spent on training Jon, forging weapons and fortifying the Wall's internal structure. Being the only metalbender is _exhausting_ , and he often left wondering how the Night's Watch survived so long without one.

Robb leaves right after his brother's departure, and Jon grows uneasy as the days pass by. "You're right", he says one day. "I must leave. I don't like it, but I can't just sit around and wait for Bran to come back."

"Have you spoken to Mormont about it?"

"No, but tonight I will." He looks away for a moment, then back at him. "Would you come with me, if I asked?"

He's taken aback by that request. "I doubt he'll let me go, Jon. I'm the only metalbender here, and with you leaving there will be even more work for me to do."

"The Night's Watch has survived just fine without you. You know the realm better than most black brothers, and now that Uncle Benjen is with Bran… there are few men I trust more than you for this."

He blinks and nods, not knowing what to _say_ to that. They've only known each other for a few months, and yet here Jon is, saying he trusts Jaime more than most black brothers—many of whom he's known for _years_. It makes him feel oddly emotional; a sort of _paternal_ feeling arises, and he's not ready to deal with it.

His silent response seems enough for the boy, for he smiles and pats his shoulder. "I'll let you know how it goes."

That night, after dinner, he lets himself rest for a bit. Whichever is the outcome of Jon's meeting with Mormont, he figures won't know proper rest for a long while. Unbidden, his thoughts go to his family. Tyrion had replied to his letter a few days ago, bringing bad news.

 _We received a letter from the North_ , he wrote. _It claims to be yours, and it talked about the Others returning and a desperate need for men in the Night's Watch. It wasn't your handwriting, though, so it's hard to believe it's truly yours. Joffrey and I will set sail on a moon's turn, to see what is happening for ourselves. If this might be a trap, please warn us._

It's frustrating, to say the least, but he figures he can't blame his father and his brother for being suspicious. Now that his shoulder is fully healed, he wrote a response. _It's all real. I didn't write it myself because my shoulder had been injured while fighting a wight. Everything in that letter is the truth. Please, aid us._ He sent the raven earlier that day.

He thinks of his children. _How are they now? Has Father been treating them well?_ On his departure, he pleaded for Tyrion to protect them. _Joffrey is a little shit, and I can barely bring myself to call him my son, but Myrcella and Tommen are bound to suffer immensely with their new status._ Being a bastard is bad enough; their metalbending _should_ redeem them a bit, but Cersei's backfired attempt to pose them as legitimate princes and princess will probably only make things worse for them in the long run.

 _Cersei…_ There are days he barely misses her as a lover, and thinks of her like he thinks of Tyrion. It's harder when he goes to the Gift with Jon. Seeing him with Ygritte, Mance with his pregnant wife, all the other couples… it's nearly impossible not to remember his passionate nights with Cersei. His heart aches at the memories, and he finds himself wishing he had gone to exile with her. _Certainly my life now would be simpler. No Avatar to train, no wights to fight, no worldly threat to face. Just me and her, together as we've always been._

Whenever he thinks that, though, another part of his mind argues, _And would that make you happy? Would you be fulfilled with just Cersei?_ He wants to answer that yes, his twin would have been enough for him, but… _You are restless. You know that. Cersei is not the only reason you were so eager to join the Kingsguard, and not the only reason you always refused when Father said he'd try to get you dismissed. You are a fighter. You may not want to be, but you are. And here, you've found purpose. Would you have found it in Essos, wandering around aimlessly?_

Those questions occupy his mind until Jon comes to him. "Mormont said yes", he says. "We are to leave in two days."

* * *

They assemble with Mormont, Aemon and Tarly to discuss their route. "Airbending and earthbending are top priorities", Aemon declares. "Jon already masters all waterbending forms, save for blood, and that can be learned on his way back."

Their first main stop is to be in the Vale. It's the airbending region of Westeros, and the noblemen there normally don't busy themselves with the crown's politics, especially after Jon Arryn's death. "House Royce has promised to send men", Mormont says. "They have yet to arrive, but at least they seem to believe our words about the threat. We can work with that."

The stormlands are risky, but it's better than the crownlands, so that is to be their next stop. "There are _many_ earthbender Houses for you to pick from", Tarly says. "Of course, you can also head straight to Dorne and learn earthbending in the Reach."

Jon looks at the map laid out before him and asks, "What about here?" He points at the island of Tarth. "It's an island, so it must be isolated enough for my presence not to be noticed."

"House Tarth is a metalbending one", Jaime replies, recalling his lessons from his maester. "They were the last royals to kneel before the Storm King, and the head of the house is still called Evenstar." He shifts his weight from one leg to another. "Dorne is a good option. We have the Martells, a House full of sandbenders, and the Daynes, the only lavabender House. The Reach is as full of earthbenders as the stormlands, and we can contact plantbenders before coming back."

"I still think it's wiser to learn earthbending before sand or plant", Aemon insists.

After some more discussion, they settle on a route. Vale first, then they'll try to find a reliable house in the stormlands, then Sunspear, then Starfall, then the Reach. They'll travel the road as 'wandering crows'—recruiters for the Night's Watch—and only reveal their actual purpose after feeling safe enough.

When they leave, Jon asks to stop at the Gift to see Ygritte. "Of course", he replies. "I already assumed we'd stop there anyway. It'll be good to gather more food for the trip."

Mance calls for a feast to celebrate what he calls 'Jon's departure from boyhood'. "Our Avatar is finally becoming a man!", he exclaims, and even Jaime laughs at that. Tormund tells all embarrassing stories about younger Jon, and Ygritte adds some of her own—both that she saw herself and that she heard from the Starks. Jon's smile is a bit sad, and Jaime knows he'll miss this. _I'll miss it too_ , he realizes. _Jon's right; they have grown on me… a bit._

Jon sneaks inside Ygritte's tent, and he senses they'll sleep there that night. He is lent a tent of his own, thankfully. At sunrise, Jon shakes him awake. "Let's go", he whispers. "Before they wake up."

They get their horses as quietly as possible and leave without looking for anyone to say goodbye. However, they are not so lucky. He stops his horse when he hears another coming behind them, and turns around to see _Ygritte_.

"Seven hells", he exclaims. "What are you doing here?"

"You shouldn't be here, Ygritte", Jon begins, but the girl has none of it.

"You think I'd let you have _the_ big adventure without me?", she says with a grin, but then she turns more serious. "I don't plan on leaving you anytime soon, Jon. You should know that by now."

Her voice is softer than he's ever heard before, and it seems to catch Jon by surprise too. It's Jaime who answers, though, after a long silence. "Good thing we got more food from the Gift, since we're going to need it."

Ygritte smiles, all teeth. Jon smiles too, though more timidly. He sighs. _This will be a_ long _trip_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now the action begins! What do you want to see in Jon's journey? I have many things planned for this, but I always like to hear your suggestions.


	11. Daenerys II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The khalasar arrives in Vaes Dothrak. Daenerys practices her firebending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like in Daenerys I, this features a lot more canon events than most chapters do, and those are rather summarized so we can focus on what changes.  
> Daenerys' arc changes in a slower pace than Jon's (or anyone else's), but it is important to show these few but important changes (like Cersei's presence). I hope it doesn't feel too rushed.

As they go towards the Dothraki city—Vaes Dothrak—she can sense her brother becoming more… impatient. Unstable. _Mad?_

Cersei's eyes are stern when she looks at her husband, even when she smiles sweetly at him. Dany wonders how things are between them when they are alone. She doubts her brother is gentle; he has never been with her, his _sister_ , it was foolish to hope he'd treat his wife—a _Lannister_ , a former _Baratheon_ —better. _Does he bother to ask if she wants it or not? Drogo bothers with the question sometimes, though he usually just assumes_ — _not that I really mind._ Without thinking, her hand rests on her belly, who has begun to show a few days ago.

Viserys' behavior makes her wonder about their father. Both Cersei and Jorah have called him 'The Mad King' smoothly, as if they were more familiar with that nickname than with his real name. They never talk much about him, though, and their silence unsettles her. _If they had something good to say, they would've said it, right? Was my father really mad? If so, is my brother going mad like him?_

Sometimes, she wants to ask Cersei about her time at court _beyond_ her interactions with Rhaegar, his wife and his daughter—she told her she's never met baby Aegon, for she had already gone back to Casterly Rock when he was born. She wonders what, as Elia's lady-in-waiting, she saw of the king. How he was, and what he did that enabled Robert Baratheon to take the throne—what prompted Jaime Lannister to kill him. _Will she tell me, or will she hide behind her sweet smiles?_

Once upon a time, Dany had accepted Viserys' stories without question. She believed her father was a great king who was betrayed by his subjects because hwas a non bender, that her mother was a fierce woman whose willpower overshadowed her weak firebending, and that her older brother had been the most valiant warrior of his time, and his flames burned bright. _But Viserys was a child_ , she thinks now. _An innocent child who, like me not so long ago, wanted to see the best in his family. Is his memory really to be trusted?_

Illyrio Mopatis claimed the smallfolk secretly prayed for the return of the Targaryens, but Jorah once told her they cared little for who sat in the Iron Throne, as long as they had food in their mouths and a roof above their heads. "Under your brother's command, the Dothraki won't be nearly enough to conquer the throne… No army will be", he said once, when she asked for his honest opinion. "Viserys hasn't earned their loyalty. _You_ have, in a way, but it doesn't extend to him. And if he truly wants to be king of Westeros, he needs _Westerosi_ support."

"He'll have Lannister's support, won't he?"

"When his wife manages to contact her father, the actual lord of her house, I suppose yes. Support from House Lannister means support from the whole Westerlands, but it will mean little if no other Great House joins the cause. And sadly, I can't vouch for mine."

She had wanted to ask Cersei's opinion, but again refrained from doing so. _She won't speak so freely, being Viserys' wife. She'll say what he wants to hear to avoid his wrath._ She once heard him slap her. _She wanted to escape Robert Baratheon, and ended up with a mad dragon._

Her grip on the reins tighten with that treasonous thought. _Viserys is my brother, and rightful heir to the Iron Throne_ , she reminds herself. _No matter what he says or does, I owe him my life. I wouldn't have reached my age if it wasn't for him._

She guides her silver to approach Cersei's as they enter the Vaes Dothrak. "Does it look anything like the cities you've seen in Westeros, good sister?", she asks. Conversation is easy for them when they don't touch delicate subjects.

"I've never seen anything like this before", she answers immediately, seemingly enraptured by what is ahead of them. Dany takes a moment to look at her. Her golden hair is now tied up in a long braid, much like her own. They've braided each other's hair since they realized it was better for the heat than letting it loose. Her skin is tanned from the countless days under the hot sun, and her leather shirt, pants and boots bear no resemblance to the dress she wore when they met. In fact, Cersei _Targaryen_ bears little resemblance to Cersei _Baratheon_. Would anyone in Westeros recognize her like this?

She turns ahead. The city is large, but mostly empty. "The only permanent inhabitants are the _dosh khaleen_ ", Ser Jorah explains. "It's the name they give the widows of former _khals_."

"Then why is the city so huge?", her good sister asks, voicing her own internal question.

"It needs to be, for when all _khalasars_ come to the city at once. It's a prophecy they have… the same that regards the rebirth of the Avatar, I think."

Daenerys frowns. "The Avatar? Who is this person?"

It's Cersei who answers. "The Avatar is a legendary figure from the Age of Heroes. They would bend all elements at once, and their purpose was to bring peace and balance among all nations of the world. It is said many people carried the mantle of the Avatar, men and women alike, until the Long Night. Have you ever heard of it?"

She shakes her head. "My brother only ever told me about our dynasty."

"It makes sense", her good sister says easily. "Like I said, it's a legend from thousands of years ago. The Long Night was a particularly long winter that lasted a generation. It is said that great evils plagued the world, and it only ended when the Avatar sacrificed their own life. Usually, when an Avatar died, another would soon be born, but this time it didn't happen. Since then, many prophecies arose regarding their return." She then turns to Mormont. "Do you know what the Dothraki prophecy is, Ser Jorah? I only know the one the Faith tells."

He nods. "They call the Avatar 'the stallion that mounts the world', and claim they'll be reborn among them."

Dany tilts her head. "Among non benders?"

"It _is_ strange", he concedes. "But we don't know anything about the lives of any specific Avatars, Your Highness. All we know is that the last one was born an earthbender."

She raises her eyebrows. "No name? No gender? No birthplace?"

Both Jorah and Cersei shake their heads. "The Faith of the Seven say the next Avatar will be the Warrior come human", her good sister says. "The Warrior is portrayed as a firebender."

"I've heard many prophecies about the Avatar during my time here in Essos", Jorah adds. "Most claim they'll be reborn among firebenders. I don't know why… of course, those are all legends. The maesters usually dismiss them."

She nods and hums, but asks nothing else. _Strange that a legend would spread all over the world_ , she thinks. _It must have been a pretty famous one when it appeared._

The thought of a world savior being born among firebenders makes her heart squeeze. As far as she knows, there are no firebender _Houses_ in the world aside from the Targaryen. There are _firebenders_ , yes, but all families that tried to rise to nobility for their firebending ended up gone, either through death or through extinction of their bending over the generations. Only the Targaryens stood strong after the fall of the dragons, and even so their power weakened.

Father had been the first (and so far only) non bender king since Aegon the Conqueror. Even Aegon IV was revealed as a bender in his last years: a _lightningbender_ , whose bastard children who shared his bending founded the late House Blackfyre, but a bender nonetheless. Viserys claims the Usurper used that as an excuse; better to have an earthbender king than a non bender one—never mind the first in succession line was a firebender already.

 _Wouldn't it be sweet,_ she thinks, _that a world savior would be born just as the last firebender house is dying out?_ Of course, if Viserys succeeds in taking his throne back, their house could have some salvation. _Even if he doesn't get a firebender heir out of Cersei, my children are likely to firebend, even if weakly. He'll name them as his heirs, and everything will be solved._ That's what she hopes, at least. With how unhinged her brother has become, she can't be _sure_ about anything.

She glances briefly at Cersei. Her moon blood keeps coming without missing a day, which only adds to Viserys' anger. He's anxious about producing heirs, and there is no doubt concerning his wife's fertility. He has yet to voice his worries to her, but it's obvious he doesn't like that Daenerys got pregnant before Cersei.

She is shaken off her thoughts by the sight of her husband's palace. Like the one he has in Pentos—a courtesy of Illyrio from years ago, to placate his thirst for invasion—it's huge and beautiful. She sees Ser Jorah and Drogo's bloodriders give their weapons to a slave. "No blood can be shed in Vaes Dothrak", her maid Irri explains. "It is known."

"Not even if the _khal_ is harmed?", she asks, genuinely curious. She knows the bloodriders are the _khal_ 's sworn brothers, who share everything with him—except their horses—and follow him in death, being only allowed to outlive their _khal_ long enough to avenge him if necessary.

"That's not supposed to happen", Irri replies, "but if it does, the bloodriders must only avenge him outside the city."

Oh. That makes sense. She thanks Irri for the information and follows Drogo inside the palace. There, she requests to have chambers of her own, if possible. "Our baby is tiring me out", she explains softly to her husband. "And I'd like to practice my bending in a large place."

Her firebending has improved a bit since she started practicing heat control on the dragon eggs. Sometimes, she thinks she can feel something _alive_ inside them, but it can't be, can it? It's almost like wishing for the Avatar's return. _Still, it's useful for training. Maybe they'll melt instead of hatching, which serves my purpose just fine._ She once heard, in Volantis, that heat control is one of the finest firebending abilities. If she masters that particular art, traditional bending will surely be easier.

Every morning, she stands up to meditate. She had heard of _that_ practice in Lys, days before she and Viserys escaped the city out of fear of becoming bed slaves. "Firebending is all about breathing control", she heard. "Meditation is good for that, especially in the early morning. Firebenders rise with the sun, after all."

That last sentence struck her with its truth, back then. She _always_ woke up at early sunrise, something neither Viserys nor Drogo ever managed. Even after she began to sleep later due to her… marital activities, the sun always seems to open her eyes upon its rising. When she began her practice, she realized how important breath control is for her bending, and started to take advantage of her early rising to meditate. It does give her some peace of mind, and even helps her deal with problems during the day.

Drogo concedes her request, and she is given private chambers in front of his own. Her husband has been surprisingly considerate of her bending, something she thought he'd be afraid of. _Well, it's not like I'm harming anyone, am I?_

As she settles in her chambers, she unpacks some gifts she has secretly made for Viserys. Her brother has yet to wear proper Dothraki attire, even if his wife does, which clearly doesn't help him earn his "army's" respect. However, ever since Cersei drew liquid metal from his cup, back when they met, he distrusts most things given to him. He only trusts if it's from her, Cersei or Jorah. _Surely he'll accept clothes made by me._

She asks Doreah to summon him to her chambers, along with his wife. She has made an outfit for her as well, one that resembled her dress from Pentos a bit more. As she waits for their arrival, she spreads her gifts over her bed.

Viserys storms in furiously, dragging Doreah by her ear. "What is the meaning of this?", he roars. "You dare give me orders? I'm your king!"

Her eyes widen as she retrieves her maid, mumbling an apology in her injured ear. To her brother, she says, "Pardon me, brother. It was a misunderstanding. I only wished to _invite_ you. I have gifts for you and my good sister." As she finishes her sentence, Cersei enters her chambers, wide-eyed as well. She must have seen whatever outburst Viserys threw at Doreah.

She gestures for her bed. "Dothraki attire", she explains. "I made it myself."

He barely bothers glancing at them. "Those ridiculous rags you and my wife seem so fond of?", he says, snorting. "Next thing I know you two will braid my hair as well. This is beneath me. I must stand out as king."

Cersei speaks for her in her sweet voice and smile. "My king, it would be wise to blend in once in a while. A wise ruler understands their people's customs, and knowing a great range of people will benefit you when the crown is given back to you. Your great-grandfather, Aegon V, is well-remembered to this day, thanks in no small amount to his care for the smallfolk."

Viserys spits on the floor. "My great-grandfather was _weak_ , and the throne fell in his lap anyway. If I am to _conquer_ it back, I must show I'm above all those nobles, and dressing and behaving as a Dothraki savage won't do. It's shameful enough that you both fall in this charade, but I'll indulge in your desires while we're still in Essos." He grins, and his eyes glimmer with… _something_. "I'm nice like that." And with that, he turns to leave the room.

He stops when he hears her say, "By the way, you cannot braid your hair yet, brother, not by Dothraki standards. You have won no victories."

Her boldness is not without consequences. Viserys turns back and slaps her, _hard_. "One more jape, and you'll regret waking the dragon, sweet sister." And then he leaves.

Her good sister is on her side immediately, examining her cheek, where she was slapped. "It was bold, what you did", she says. "But foolish."

She sighs. "He thinks he can buy the _khal_ 's loyalty. He thinks he already has. But he didn't, and he won't, not like this."

Cersei nods. "I realize that. But he _will_ hurt you if he feels attacked." She then turns to the bed and grabs the only feminine outfit. "It's lovely", she comments, and it sounds sincere. "Thank you."

Despite the pain, Daenerys smiles.

* * *

And then, a couple days later, one of the _dosh khaleen_ announces her child is to be the _stallion who mounts the world_.

"From the silvers who do not know the elements", the crone says, "the all-powerful stallion who mounts the world shall rise. All _khalasars_ will come as one, and he will bend all elements in our name. He will defeat the great evils of the world, and the bells in his hair will sing his coming, and the milk men in the stone tents will fear his name."

 _He. His._ Her child is to be a boy, then. She proclaims her son will be named Rhaego, in honor of her late brother. Drogo smiles proudly, and kisses her in front of everyone. As he leads her out of the pit where she ate the damn heart, he asks about Rhaegar. "He was a fierce warrior", she explains, "a firebender. He died in combat, fighting bravely. You'd have liked him."

He smiles. "Rhaego is not a traditional name, but you are not a traditional wife. I like it."

She smiles back. _My son is to be the Avatar reborn_. How exciting! _Perhaps it came to be due to my firebending. The prophecy claims the Avatar would be_ born _among non benders, not be a non bender himself._

Later, there is a feast for those who are not high enough in rank to attend the formal ceremony earlier—like Viserys, Cersei and Jorah. When she arrives, her brother is nowhere to be seen, and neither is his knight. "He wanted to buy wine in the market", her good sister explains. "I asked Ser Jorah to follow him, of course, even if neither man wanted the other's company."

She sighs. "My brother makes little effort to earn his people's respect", she declares, mentally noticing how differently the Dothraki treat her and her brother. _Cersei and Jorah are more respected than Viserys, and for good reason._ "I'm beginning to have doubts about his campaign for the Iron Throne." _I could spend the rest of my days here, with my family._

"Then I guess we must pray, _khaleesi_ ", she replies. _Cersei wants to go back home, too_ , she remembers. _It'd be selfish of me to wish to remain here._

"Tell me about Lannisport", she asks as food is served. "You've told me about Casterly Rock, but never about the city beside it."

The other woman smiles and opens her mouth to answer, but then Jhiqui calls for her. " _Khaleesi_ , your brother is here."

Oh, and how she wishes he wasn't. Viserys is clearly drunk, _alone_ , and carrying a damn _sword_. _Where did he get it?_ "Go find Ser Jorah, please", she whispers to Cersei. "I'll distract him."

Her good sister nods and retreats quietly to a corner, while Dany walks to her brother, chin lifted. She is a dragon, as much as him, and a _khaleesi_ on top of that. She won't cower. "Brother", she calls, emulating Cersei's sweetness. "I've missed you at the feast."

He spits. "You wouldn't have missed me if you had _waited_ for me, as you should have. Have you no respect for your _king_?" He purposefully bumps on her with his shoulder as he walks to the high benches, where her husband is sitting.

Drogo rises and looks at Viserys, sternly, and calls for Jhiqui. "Tell him", he says, because her brother never bothered learning Dothraki, "that his place is not here, but the back corner, with the lowest of rank."

Her maid gulps, but translates correctly. At her side, Cersei arrives with Jorah. Neither dare ask what is happening, even in a whisper. Viserys, oblivious to the tension around him, boldy replies, "I am the _king_ , and I sit wherever I choose."

After Jhiqui translates his words, Drogo laughs. "You are no king, no _khal_. You have no place among my brothers."

As soon as her maids says his words in Common Tongue, Viserys draws the sword from his hips. Half of the men rise in anger, but her brother barely notices as he marches in her direction. "Tell him, _sister_ ", he shouts, pointing the blade at her belly. "Remind me that he _owes_ me the crown, or else I'll open your belly to give him his child and take the rest of you in me." He motions the sword in her direction, but the blade suddenly _shrinks_.

He gasps dramatically, and she turns slightly to the side. Cersei's hand is still risen, shaking a bit. "You don't shed blood in Vaes Dothrak", she says. "Don't act foolishly, my king."

However, as she hears Jhiqui translating what happened between sobs, she realizes it's too late. Drogo walks in their direction and says, "You shall have a splendid golden crown that men shall tremble to behold." Her maid stays shut, so Daenerys translates for him.

"See?", he says, grinning. "It wasn't so hard." _Oh, brother, if only you knew_. Cersei has yet to lower her hand, but her eyes say that she understood what is behind Drogo's words too. _Will you save him, like you saved me?_

Other men—other _people_ —would have seized her and tied her so she wouldn't bend the scalding melting gold away, but her good sister has wisely chosen to not metalbend in front of the _khalasar_ , and they don't know what she's capable of. Some might have noticed what she did to the sword, but not enough to connect the dots.

It doesn't matter; Cersei does nothing. Her brother is crowned in melting gold, and his skull melts along as his screams stop. No blood is shed, and all Daenerys can think is: _He was never a dragon. Fire cannot kill a dragon._


	12. Tyrion I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> House Lannister deals with the aftermath of Cersei and Jaime's crimes. Tywin is not pleased, but when is he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We go a little back in time, so we can see what is happening with the remaining Lannisters.

"It seems I can no longer be delusional", his father declares. "You _are_ my heir, indeed."

One would think Tyrion's greatest wish is coming true, but _of course_ Tywin Lannister doesn't let him be happy.

"You must behave like it, now", he continues. "I've let you whore around because it would taint _your_ reputation, but now we both must restore our House's image. Your _idiot_ siblings ruined the family name with their foolishness. It falls on us to make House Lannister great again. No more visits to brothels, no more whores on your bed. I will find a suitable bride for you, and you _will_ be faithful to her."

At least he's ordering him to stay celibate forever. _He needs heirs from my seed_ , he notices. _Otherwise lordship will go to my siblings's bastards._

Tyrion has always known about their affair; it's always been obvious in his eyes. Jaime and Cersei never behaved around each other as brother and sister, but as lovers. Their father has been blind to it, as he always is to anything that doesn't fit his world view, but not there is no denial anymore. Not only he lost two heirs on the same day—one to the Night's Watch and another to exile—he has to look, every day at the living proof of their dishonor, in the form of their three children.

From the day Cersei and Jaime received their sentence, the children have reacted to it in many different ways. Joffrey's tantrums initially increased in frequency, and he stayed in denial until they stopped by Riverrun, and he found himself unable to demand royal treatment. Afterwards, he closed off… much like Myrcella.

His niece has always been a sweet girl, despite her mother's efforts to turn her into a female Joffrey—Cersei never hid her favoritism. She reminded Tyrion of her father in the way she loved her uncle: publicly, although timidly, as if she'd be punished otherwise. In the days after their departure from Winterfell, her face has been unreadable. Joffrey claimed she was afraid of their grandfather, and while the boy _may_ be right, Tyrion doubts it's all there is to it.

Tommen was the one least affected. Perhaps it's due to his young age, but when Arya asked him if he was fine, the boy simply said, "I am not a prince anymore, so now I can be a knight!" Knighthood _has_ been his dream ever since he could grab a sword, indeed, but he wonders if his nephew simply does not understand the burden of bastardy like his older siblings do.

Regardless, Tyrion is set on fulfilling the promises he made to their parents—especially Jaime, who all but begged him to keep them safe. "If you can", he also said, "find a way to train them in metalbending. _All_ of them. Myrcella shouldn't know the misery her mother did."

It's with that thought in mind that he approaches his father a day after he announced his plans to wed him to a noblewoman. "Your grandchildren should continue their training", he says, without bothering with small pleasantries; he and Father never did, with each other. "Their bending may prove useful in face of their new status."

Tywin doesn't look at him at first, seemingly having found something interesting in his room's walls. It feels like an eternity has passed when he finally answers, "Have all of them begun their training, in King's Landing?"

He frowns, trying to remember, and nods. "Of course, Joffrey is the most skilled, but Myrcella doesn't seem to be too far behind. _Both_ of their parents are gifted benders, so it's not far-fetched to think their children will grow to be master benders too, if properly trained. No one would dare belittle _master_ benders because of their birth."

It takes another while for Tywin to reply to that. "You may be my son, after all." Tyrion's eyes widen, but he doesn't interrupt him. "Yes, their bending may be their salvation… ours too, especially if your eventual offspring takes after you, or their mother."

At that, he blinks and opens his mouth to speak. "Am I not to marry a metalbender's daughter?"

Tywin sighs. "Doubtfully. At this point, most suitable brides from the Westerlands are already married, and the ones left are too young. Under normal circumstances, I'd safely consider them, but we _are_ disgraced now. Not every lord will willingly give his young daughter away to a Lannister. Our best bet would be a widow, or a woman of your age who has yet to marry for whatever reason, but we are lacking those here."

"Aren't there metalbender Houses outside the Westerlands?"

"Only one, House Tarth. Lord Selwyn has a daughter aged eight-and-ten, second in line, a metalbender, whose betrothals have been broken several times… However, it is known she will only accept a husband if he beats her in combat." His pointed look covers everything he has to say on the matter. "That being said, it is wise to wed you to a non bender. That way your heritage can be as strong—or as weak—as hers, increasing your chances of siring a metalbender."

The subject is now widely different from the initial one, but Tyrion can't help but ask, "And who would that be?"

"There are options", he says vaguely. "I am gathering information. I'll approach you when I'm done." A pause. "Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen are to begin their training tomorrow morning, under _my_ tutelage. You are dismissed; go tell them the news."

Surprised as he is—not only is his father willing to personally train his bastard grandchildren, including Myrcella, he just said he'll show Tyrion his options for a bride—Tyrion simply bids his goodbye and leaves.

* * *

Now that he is _the_ heir to Casterly Rock, Tyrion follows his father's shadow for most of the day. He watches, learns and gives his input in many subjects, and he likes to watch his niece and nephews train their bending.

Set on having at least _one_ gold miner in the family, his father takes all three to the mines. Jaime never liked the task, and Cersei has never gone down there enough times to count, but House Lannister metalbenders are _primarily_ miners, and Tywin won't waste his second chance.

It's Myrcella who grows into the activity the most. Tommen insists he is to become a knight, so he prefers weapon making like his father, while Joffrey shows no particular preference. _He never liked to be a metalbender_ , he reminds himself. _He had wished to be an earthbender; claimed he wanted to be like his father. Poor boy._ Soon Tywin favors his granddaughter over his grandsons, spending more time teaching her. It is up to Tyrion to give his nephews his attention, to prevent them from feeling abandoned—again. He doesn't like the perspective of taking care of _Joffrey_ , but he has promises to keep, and the boy might be his heir.

Tommen is content to be left playing, but Tyrion decides to show the ropes of lordship to his older nephew. It is, honestly, a _bitchy_ work, and he often finds himself looking for a bottle of wine to relax, but it's better than doing nothing while waiting for Tywin and Myrcella to come back from the mines.

One day, Tywin approaches him with a small list: names of potential brides. He reads the list and silently ponders about each candidate.

 _Jeyne Westerling_. A non bender from a metalbender house, slightly older than Joffrey. Wedding a Westerling would strengthen Lannister's ties to the lands which they are wardens of, not to mention there were big chances of them siring a metalbender heir. That being said, Tyrion does find her too young, and House Westerling is a poor house, economically speaking. _Are we this desperate? I like to think not._

 _Kyra Frey._ A non bender from a non bender House. His aunt Genna has already married a Frey, and none of her kids are metalbenders, meaning bending has officially died out in her branch of the family. House Frey has remarkably tried to get benders for generations, but their blood is seemingly too strong, and all attempts fell short. Wedding a Frey may show even more desperation than wedding a Westerling.

 _Lucinda Marbrand_ , daughter and sister of metalbenders. Her brother Addam is Jaime's childhood friend—the only one Cersei didn't alienate—and an alliance between the two houses would be beneficial. However, Lucinda is a childless widow; she may be barren. Marrying her is risky business.

 _Rosamund Lannister_ , from Lannisport. Er, no. She is what, eight years old? _Is Father mad?_

 _Allyria Dayne_ , a non bender from the only known lavabender house in the world. Sister of the late Ser Arthur and Ashara—infamously rumored to be the mother of Lord Eddard Stark's bastard son. If he recalls correctly, Allyria is only a few years younger than him. Why hasn't she married yet? Regardless, she seems a good option.

There are other names, from Westerlands and nearby regions, and he even catches sight of a Mormont name—apparently Lady Maege bore a non bender daughter, Lyra. After much thought, he ranks the women from best to worst choice. _Worst option is decidedly Rosamund. What was Father thinking?_

Tywin says nothing as he reads his list, and dismisses him with a hand wave. It is odd to discuss marriage. After Tysha— _the only woman who ever loved me_ —he had resigned himself to brothels. The whores were willing to see past his size and face when they saw his coin. He never thought he'd take a wife.

Before he left for the Wall, Jaime confessed he had lied about Tysha. "She was never a whore", he said, nearly choking. "She's always been sincere in everything. But Father could not have you wedded to a commoner."

In another life, Tyrion would have hated his brother for what he did. However, in this life he forgives him. After all, who could escape Tywin's machinations and refuse his orders? Especially at their age, at the time. So young and frightened.

When he asked about her whereabouts, Jaime looked like he could cry. "She was supposed to head for Braavos", he said, "but she… she ran to the beach and let herself drown. I'm so, so sorry."

The only thing stopping him from strangling Father for what he did is his usefulness. He needs Tywin to train his grandchildren, and he knows he'll have more resources and authority to rebuild House Lannister's name. _I need him as an ally for now, if I want to ascend to lordship without a revolt. The Imp cannot take a disgraced Rock. Only when our reputation is restored will I get rid of him. In the meantime, I must act like a well-behaved son._ And so it goes, as months pass by. Tywin keeps reasserting his authority, showing nothing has changed despite the stain by his elder children. Tyrion learns and teaches, and goes around the people to see his lands with his own eyes.

One day, he discusses with Father the possibility to send Joffrey away as someone's squire when they are interrupted by a servant. "A letter from the Wall", she announces, handing it to Tywin. Frowning, he opens it and reads it aloud.

 _This is madness_ , he thinks as he hears the words. _But Jaime's imagination is not that good. If he claims to have fought a wight, he must have done it. And I doubt he'd ask for new recruits for the Night's Watch just out of fondness for his new service._

"This is false", Father declares, throwing the letter at the table. "It is not his handwriting. And look at the amount of fantastical nonsense!"

Tyrion frowns and looks at the letter. Indeed, its handwriting is too pretty to be his brother's, who always had trouble learning how to read and write. Still… "But the letter came _from_ the Wall. Perhaps Jaime chose to dictate the letter instead of hurting our eyes with his writing."

"The contents are absurd. Others? Wights? Next thing he'll write about the Long Night dawning on us!"

"Still, Father, this letter seems serious. Shouldn't we at least check its veracity?"

Tywin raises his left eyebrow. "How do you suggest we do it?"

"First of all, write a letter to _Jaime_ asking if the contents of this one are true. Secondly, one of us—I suppose _me_ —could go there and see for ourselves."

A short silence precedes his reply. "Good suggestions. Go write the letter… and I'll organize a voyage. You'll go, and bring Joffrey along. Hopefully we'll find a lord for him to squire on the way, or drop him on the Wall if Jaime's words about temporary service are true." He stands up, but stops himself from turning around. "By the way… I almost forgot. I received a letter from House Dayne. Lady Allyria is to come to Casterly Rock in a moon's turn with her older brother to discuss a betrothal between you two."

He nods, and Tywin leaves the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Allyria Dayne, Jeyne Westerling, Kyra Frey, Rosamund Lannister and Lyra Mormont are canon characters. Lucinda Marbrand is an OC. Addam Marbrand is indeed said to be Jaime's oldest friend, but as far as we know he is an only child.  
> EDIT: Since a few people already asked:  
> \- No, Tyrion won’t necessarily wed Allyria. They’ll meet to discuss it, which gives ME time to decide whether they’ll marry or not xD  
> \- Beric Dondarrion is not being forgotten! But remember, past events don’t always follow canon. (Notice that Brienne is mentioned as SECOND in line to inherit Evenfall Hall…)  
> Next chapter, we'll go back to Jon, Jaime and Ygritte. Adventure time! :D


	13. Jon III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of Jon's journey across Westeros.

"If anyone asks", Jaime says, "I'm a recruiter for the Night's Watch, you are my first recruit, and Ygritte is a Stark servant sent to King's Landing."

"I'm a _what_?", the girl in question says, clearly irritated. "I like Jon's family and all, but a _servant_?"

The knight frowns. "What's wrong with being a servant?"

"I don't know how to be one! Or _pretend_ to be one!"

"You'd rather pretend to be a camp follower?"

Ygritte looks at Jon. Oh, she doesn't know what 'camp follower' means. He feels himself flushing before replying, "It's a whore."

She tilts her head. "It's easier to pretend I'm a whore than a servant."

Jaime sighs. "You do realize Jon and I are supposed to be _celibate_ , right? Parading a whore with us won't do. If we say Lady Stark asked for us to deliver you to King's Landing, they might jape behind our backs, but we won't raise _actual_ suspicions."

"Does my aunt know about this?", he asks. They stopped in Winterfell for a day, to sleep. Busy as he was with Robb, Theon and Rickon, he can't remember if he ever saw Jaime and Aunt Catelyn talking.

"Of course she does", he answers exasperatedly. "I'm not an idiot, and _someone_ has to be the concerned adult on this trip."

"Well", he replies, "you _are_ the oldest out of us."

The knight doesn't bother answering.

They've been traveling for four days now, two since they left Winterfell. Everyone in Wintertown knows about Jon, so they didn't question his presence along with Jaime's and Ygritte's— _it must be an Avatar thing_ , he heard them whisper among themselves. They are not wrong.

However, as they go further south, less and less people are aware of who he is, therefore his presence might be questioned, which is why they are making up stories to justify it. Jaime is the easiest to excuse; the Night's Watch sends recruiters every now and then, and with the mass message sending a few weeks ago, someone like him is even _expected_ to show up on the road.

"Won't anyone question why I'm not on the Wall already?", he asks at one point.

Jaime shrugs. "I can claim I didn't want to waste time going back just to deliver you. They may call me lazy, but it's still a valid excuse." He can't argue against that logic, so he just nods.

Inns are rare and sparse, so there are nights where they sleep in the woods. When that happens, they take turns to watch over one another. Usually, Ygritte is the first to stay awake, followed by Jon and then Jaime. They change the order sometimes, to assure everyone can get at least one night without waking up in the middle of it, but Jon usually doesn't mind getting the second switch. His odd dreams often leave him awake anyway.

_Some nights, he is a Northern woman; it's easy to tell from the clothes. The sun seems weaker than usual, and although there are happy times, the general feeling is of dread._

_Other nights, he's another woman; he can't say where from, but definitely southern. Moonless nights are dorm, and this time, the general feeling is of doom._

_There are better dreams; he is usually a man in those. Sometimes, he's in a city full of lava and fire and dragons, which pleases his dormant Targaryen side. Other times, he is in a place full of cities, roads, rivers, forests… everything in one big region. He smiles, something his female selves seldom see reason to do._

He wakes up wondering about the dreams, but he soon forgets most of them. Perhaps Bran knows what they mean; he makes a mental note to ask him when they meet again. He _feels_ those dreams are glimpses of the past, but he can't be sure. He has read everything he found about legends of the Avatar on the Wall, but there is little beyond prophecies and what Maester Aemon taught him over the years.

He knows the Avatar was a mantle that would be passed from one person to another. As soon as an Avatar died, another was born. He has read a brief mention of what is called Avatar Cycle: one was born among firebenders, the next among airbenders, the next among waterbenders, the next among earthbenders, and then back to firebenders. The last known Avatar was an earthbender and perished fighting against the Others; no information regarding their identity survived to present day, and nothing is known about the Avatars that preceded them, only that they existed.

That massive lack of information is one of the reasons the Avatar has always been regarded as a legendary figure instead of a historical one. The truth is out now, of course—though not to most Westerosi—but now there are more questions than answers, which leaves Jon pretty much in the dark about the whole thing.

He can still remember the first dream he had in which he was in someone else's body. After talking to Maester Aemon, he's sure he dreamed of the last Avatar, possibly in their final battle. He suspects he's dreaming of them again in the Kingsroad, but not always. In most dreams, however, he's clearly _not_ inside their (her?) body, but other people's.

He talks to his companions about the dreams, but neither Ygritte or Jaime are of help. They know even less than he does; Ygritte has heard often of the Avatar, and some wildling legends claim that one of them had been of the Free Folk, while Jaime knew next to nothing before coming to the Wall. Eventually, he gives up trying to decipher his weird dreams. They come less and less often as they progress their journey anyway, and rarely come when he stays the night in an inn.

People usually don't bother them, especially when they see Jaime's black uniform. Ygritte's presence is sometimes questioned, but she learns to get in the role of a humble Stark servant, and everyone buys it.

It takes a few days before they reach a river. "Please tell me we can take a bath here", Ygritte says as soon as they catch sight of it.

"I think the king's party did", Jaime replies. "No one died, so..."

She doesn't need to be told twice before dismounting and taking her clothes off. Even though he's used to seeing her naked, Jon averts his gaze; better to give her _some_ privacy while bathing. "I'm going to take a bath, too", Jaime announces, his back turned. "My last one was two days ago."

"Water's great here!", Ygritte exclaims. "And safe!"

Jon is the last to bathe himself in the river, since he took too long to voice his wish to do it. As he picks clean clothes to dress himself, he hears steps approaching their small camp. He immediately tenses and dresses up faster. "Well, well", he hears a male voice say. "Look at that. A pretty man and a _prettier_ lady."

"Ain't no lady", Ygritte spits. "And _what_ are you two?"

 _So there are two men_ , he thinks as he silently comes closer, hiding behind a tree. If Jaime and Ygritte are attacked, he'll have the element of surprise in his favor. "Just passin' by", the other man replies. "Although, we wouldn't mind the company."

He can _hear_ maliciousness in the men's voices, and, from his standpoint, he can see it in their grins. "But _we_ would", Jaime retorts. "Have a nice day."

"Oh, we _will_ ", the first man says, and draws a weapon—a dagger? He doesn't waste time trying to guess. Barely leaving his spot, he closes his left hand in a fist and punches the air, willing a fireball to come out of it. The first man is hit square in the abdomen, and shouts in pain, dropping his weapon immediately.

"Seven _hells_ ", the other man exclaims. "There is a _firebender_ here!"

Jon smirks and leaves his hiding spot. "Not just a firebender", he announces, stomping his right foot on the ground and freezing it all the way to where the men are standing, making them fall. "The _Avatar_ , gentlemen."

The two men get up and run as fast as they can. Only, Ygritte shoots one arrow at each. One is hit on the head and falls, while the other keeps running with an arrow on his shoulder. As she prepares another shot, he places a hand on her shoulder. "Let him go", he says softly. "By the time anyone bothers to listen to him, we'll be far ahead."

She turns to him and, after some contemplation, nods. "Well, I should get that arrow", she says, mostly to herself. "It might still be salvageable."

Jaime looks at the ground. "Hey, they left a dagger", he comments and crouches down to get it. "Their loss."

Jon chuckles as he melts the ice he formed. "Can't say this trip is uneventful", he says. The knight laughs along as Ygritte comes back, arrow in hand. "We should get moving now, though. I don't know about you, but I'd rather not risk being found by more bandits."

"Agreed."

* * *

They reach Moat Cailin seven days after that. There are more inns as they reach the Neck, which is a relief, given the scare the bandits gave them.

Once, a riverlander recognizes Jaime and mocks him for sleeping with Cersei, but Lannister simply rolls his eyes. "The eunuchs at the Night's Watch can throw better jokes about it than you, lad. Let me tell you, 'sisterfucker' _is_ my title nowadays." He doesn't say the nickname actually came from a wildling, thankfully, and the man shuts up anyway. They drink to that, later.

Jon has heard about the ruined castle and its importance to Northern defenses. Being the only known passage from North to South, it's a strategic point against enemy invasions. Aunt Catelyn said once that its fortifications were the reason why the Andals never conquered the North.

"It was empty when I passed through it the first time", Jaime comments as the three towers come to vision. "Hopefully it still is."

It's night when they actually reach it, so Jon suggests they take shelter inside one of the towers. After a careful inspection, they conclude they are alone, and decide to stay the night in what Jaime calls Gatehouse Tower. As Jon lights up some torches, the other two unpack a small meal. "You know", Ygritte says, "this is a good place for sharing stories."

"Scary ones, you say?", he hears Jaime's reply. "I don't know many of those. My brother Tyrion would be a better companion in this regard."

"I was thinking of stories in _general_ ", she replies. "I can go first."

She begins her tale after all three sit and start eating. "I think Jon knows that one, but I'll tell it anyway since it's the shortest and we can move on to yours. Have you ever heard of Hardhome, Sisterfucker?" Jaime shakes his head, seemingly unaffected by the nickname. "It's a ruined village in the North."

"North?"

"North of the Wall", Jon supplies.

Jaime nods, biting his food. Ygritte continues, "It was supposed to be a town. _The_ town of the Free Folk, where we could trade with southerners and even from across the sea. But then, some hundreds of years ago… it burned."

"Like in a fire?"

"Yes? No one really knows _what_ exactly happened. It is said the fire burned so high and bright, the crows thought the sun was _rising_. It lasted half of the night, and when morning came, there was nobody left to tell the tale."

"Who put out the fire, then?"

"It died out on its own."

"How?"

" _Nobody knows_ , Sisterfucker."

"That's… boring."

"Oh, but what if I tell you one can still hear screams when they go to the ruins?" Jaime raises his eyebrows, looking unimpressed. It reminds Jon of Lord Mormont. "The _screaming caves_ , as we call it. No one can stand spending the night there, especially because there is nowhere left to stay _but_ those caves." She takes a sip of water. "They say ashes flew through the Haunted Forest for a year after the fire. Some of the Free Folk who go to the place claim they see ghosts of the victims, while others claim they fought wights."

"I'm more inclined to believe in the ones who mention wights", Jon says. Jaime nods.

"Yeah, me too. Anyway, everyone says the place is cursed. Some people try to venture into the caves to discover where the screams come from, but they never come back. There are raids from pirates every now and then, to take wood and whatever trash they can find. And ever since its destruction, no one tried to build another town."

Silence follows. "Well, if we are talking about mysterious fires", Jaimes says, "I know one. It's way more recent than yours. People call it 'the tragedy of Summerhall."

* * *

When they catch sight of the Twins—from a distance, thankfully—Jon tells Ygritte about House Frey. "They are the biggest non bender noble house", he says. "They always try to get benders into the family by marriage, but children from those marriages are rarely benders, and even those who are don't pass it along. It's like a curse."

"And how did a family of non benders get to be _noble_?", she asks. Over the years, he taught Ygritte many things about 'the southern ways'. The notion of nobility is well-known by her at this point.

It's Jaime who answers. "By building one of the strongest fortifications of Westeros, and later bending the knee to Aegon the Conqueror. He was impressed by the castle, and even more when he found out its head's ancestors built it without resorting to bending. Despite their attempts to establish a bender line, the Freys are rather proud of not relying on bending for power."

"Well, can't disagree there."

Inns are now a common sight on the road, and the only reason they don't stop by them more often is due to their limited savings. They do stay the night at the famous Crossroads Inn, the last before they leave Kingsroad for the River Road. As usual, they get a single room—which is terrible for Jon and Ygritte, who want to _be_ together but can't because of Jaime, but it's great for coin saving so he won't complain—and, due to tiredness of riding under a hotter sun than they are used to, they retreat early to it.

"Hey, Jaime", Jon calls. They may be tired, but none of them are _sleepy_ yet, so he figures they can talk a bit. "How many years did you spend in King's Landing before you killed the Mad King?"

He can see the knight tensing up. "Two years", he answers. "Two _horrible_ years."

It's Ygritte who asks, "Why? I mean, the king must've been really mad if you killed him, but…"

"He wasn't just _mad_ ", he says. "He was downright _cruel_." He proceeds to tell a handful of things he had to see Aerys do: rape his wife—Jaime recalls her pleas in rather vivid detail, and the feeling of hopelessness because he wasn't able to protect her, and Jon wants to _puke_ upon hearing that—, sentence people to death by wildfire for imaginary crimes—including the burnings that sort of started Robert's Rebellion, namely grandafther Rickard and uncle Brandon—, harass women all around the Red Keep, threaten everyone just for the sake of it…

"I can see why you killed him", Ygritte says when he finishes. "He wouldn't have lasted a _day_ among the Free Folk."

Jaime's jaw clenches, and Jon is sure the story is not complete. _What really drove you to kill him?_ , he wants to ask. _Why didn't you do it sooner?_ But clearly, his friend—gods, he does consider Jaime a _friend_ , doesn't he—is not ready to share _that_ particular story, so he contents himself with what was given. It's quite a lot already.

He dreams of green fire that night. Green fire, screaming, and swords dancing all around.

* * *

If the only trouble they found on Kingsroad was a couple of easily scared bandits, they can't say the same for the River Road and the High Road that follows it. _Seven hells_ , Jon thinks as he pierces another ice dagger through a man's throat. _Is it so hard to leave us alone?_

Jaime had told them about the mountain clans before they reached the Bloody Gate. "They attack travelers to rob them rather often, according to the late Lord Arryn. I wish there was another way to reach the Eyrie, _but_ only airbenders can ditch the High Road to get there."

"So, Jon could", Ygritte deadpans. "If he already knew how to airbend."

"Well, I _am_ here to learn it, aren't I?"

"Still."

Now the only reason he hasn't tried to airbend himself up is because he needs to help Jaime and Ygritte defeat the _numerous_ bandits who attack them.

Eventually, they reach the Bloody Gate. They are greeted by a knight wearing armor painted in blue and red, with a trout emblem. House Tully. _He must be Lady Lysa's relative._ He waits for the man to introduce himself. "Who would pass the Bloody Gate?", he asks, all proper.

Jaime smiles. "Can't recognize me, Blackfish? I haven't changed _that_ much."

The knight blinks. "Oh, the Kingslayer." It's _weird_ to hear Jaime being called that, even though they talked about the king he killed not long ago. He is way too used to 'Sisterfucker'. "So it's true; you joined the Night's Watch. Should have been sent there _years_ ago."

It's certainly made to be taunting, but Jaime shows little reaction. "Given the amount of work I've gotten with the Wall itself, you may be right, Ser. Anyway, I am here for… well, Jon, why don't _you_ introduce yourself to your lady aunt's uncle? I think it's time to show off."

Jaime's lighthearted tone makes Jon grin. He turns to the Blackfish—Ser Brynden Tully, from what he recalls of Aunt Catelyn's talks—and speaks up. "My name is Jon Frost, Ser. Or Jon Fyre, if we are being technical."

The man frowns. "Why is that? I remember Eddard Stark has a bastard. Isn't it you?"

"Yes and no." _Now or never_ … "I _am_ a bastard, but Lord Eddard is actually my _uncle_. I'm Lyanna Stark's son with Rhaegar Targaryen."

"He's also the Lord Avatar", Ygritte supplies, smirking. "C'mon, Jon, show _off_."

He rolls his eyes as Jaime lets out a laugh. "Well, since you asked so nicely…" Ignoring Tully's increasing frown, he grabs Longclaw—which has spent most of the trip packed, but had to be wielded in the fights against the bandits, so it's now rested on his hip—and lights it on fire. Then, he puts it out and, with a hand slip, freezes it. _Old but gold_ , he thinks, remembering the time he did exactly that to prove his identity to Mance Rayder.

"For the Seven", the Blackfish exclaims. "This is madness, but…"

"It's as real as the sun above our heads", Jon says. "I'm here for an airbender teacher."

"It… makes sense, I think. I'll… take you inside. Just…"

Jaime is clearly amused to see Tully fumbling and stammering, and Jon seriously wants to remind him of _his_ reaction upon finding out his life had been saved by the Avatar, but Ygritte is just as amused, so it would be quite unfair to scold only Lannister. Instead, he silently waits for Ser Brynden to recollect himself and let them inside the Bloody Gate. "There are airbenders here already", he says as they get inside. "The whole Vale is full of them. But, since you are the _Avatar_ , I suppose you are looking for a _master_ airbender."

"That would be ideal, yes."

"In that case, your best option is Yohn Royce, lord of Runestone. Luckily for you, he spends most of his days in the Eyrie now, mentoring Jon Arryn's son Robert. His mother Lysa is a non bender, daughter of a waterbender, so she is no help in that aspect. I'll send a raven to inform them of your arrival, but I suppose you want to rest here for the day?"

All three of them nod. As Tully leaves them to order the servants to prepare chambers for them, Jaime whispers, "Never thought I'd see the Blackfish _ramble_. This trip is already worth all the bloody trouble."

He barely suppresses a laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ygritte's story about Hardhome is nearly identical to the canon one, which is found in 'The World of Ice and Fire'. All locations shown and mentioned in this chapter exist in canon, and I tried my best to portray an accurate route between the Wall and the Eyrie.


	14. Eddard I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King Robert weds Margaery Tyrell, and Eddard is honestly tired of his job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the next covers things that happened at the same time period of Jon's last chapter, which covered several days.

_If this is the right thing to do, why does it feel so wrong?_ He keeps asking himself that question for the entirety of Robert's (quick) betrothal and wedding to Margaery Tyrell. Several other ladies from big houses were presented as candidates—Arianne Martell (apparently Dorne is more willing to make an alliance with the Crown now that the Lannisters are out of sight), Rowenna Royce, Alynne Connington, Laena Estermont (Robert's cousin, who he once bedded), Jeyne Swann, Lollys Stokeworth, Talla Tarly and Gwenys Blackwood, among others—but Robert chose Margaery anyway. _Was it really his choice? Does he really find her the most suitable candidate, or did Renly fill his head with the idea?_ Too late to dwell on that now, though. Lady Margaery Tyrell is now Queen Margaery Baratheon, and he has to accept that.

Sansa seems to get along with her, at least, and even Arya treats her with kindness. _Perhaps she will be a good queen, regardless of how she got the title._ At the feast, the new queen entertains some children with plantbending tricks, making flowers blossom and taking them to place on girls' heads. Robert laughs loudly at the performances and—drunkenly, for his friend cannot bear to stay sober for more than three hours—praises his wife. He even brings Cersei up in one of his ramblings, although it's to badmouth her.

He sighs. As days go by, he grows more and more tired of his friend. This current Robert is a shell of the one he knew and fought for, back in the day. Years of isolation in the North deprived him of seeing how much the crown changed him, and now he's seeing it all at once.

His daughters agree with him; Arya is rather blunt about her opinions. "Perhaps Cersei Lannister turned to her twin because she was too disgusted by her husband." Sansa never voices her own opinion, but her reaction to her sister's words is rather telling.

If anything good has happened since they moved to King's Landing, it's the fact that his two daughters are closer than ever. They share chambers willingly, and, aside from their training sessions, are usually seen side by side. Today, at the wedding, they sit far from the main table, talking in whispers. He wonders, not for the first time, what they talk so much about. It's still an odd sight, even after three years.

Things changed when Sansa found out being an icebender in the South was not a pleasant life. Not only would her powers weaken, she'd be seen as inferior for it; waterbenders are often frowned upon in lands full of earthbenders. Gone were the innocent dreams of a wide-eyed girl; Sansa grew into a true Northerner, prouder of her Stark heritage than her Tully one. Cat wasn't pleased, of course, especially when it became clear that her waterbender daughter had no love for the southern lifestyle.

Not that Sansa changed completely. His wife still had a sewing and conversation companion in their eldest daughter. However, as Sansa's world view changed, they grew apart, even if slightly. _But now Sansa is no longer naïve,_ he thinks. _She no longer deludes herself with stories and songs, even if she still likes those._

His reverie is interrupted by Sansa herself, asking if he'd like to dance with her. He nods, of course, and lets her lead him. He remembers the last two times he danced: one in his own wedding feast, and another in that tourney at Harrenhal. _The tourney that started it all._

If it wasn't for Brandon's insistence that he should 'live up a little', Ned would have stayed the whole night at the table, watching the feast. Lyanna and Benjen had also looked like they wanted to stay there too, so he wouldn't even be alone. But his elder brother _couldn't_ leave him be, and even lured other women to dance with him.

Not that he didn't like the experience. He met many ladies, most of whom were gentle and pretty. It just ended up mattering very little, for he ended up wedding his brother's bride. Of course, he grew to love Cat deeply over the years, but their beginning was the most awkward—and that's _without_ a fake bastard on their way.

 _Being able to tell the truth was a blessing_ , he thinks. _For me, for Cat and for our children._ He wonders, sometimes, how different things would have been had Jon grown as a non bender or an icebender.

He retires for his chambers before the bedding, unwilling to see Robert taking liberties with his wife in public.

* * *

"I can still break easily through this", he tells Sansa as he punches the ice covering his leg. "You will only delay your opponent, not immobilize him."

She arches her eyebrows. "But isn't it the point of freezing their legs? Delaying the enemy to allow for a better attack?"

He nods, but adds, "However, if your ice is strong enough, they'll be essentially trapped. Your ice can be broken by a punch; a master's ice cannot be broken even by the sharpest swords."

She huffs. "I'm no master, and with this dry weather I won't become one anytime soon."

He approaches her to ruffle her hair. "You have time, my daughter. I got my title early because of the war. If the gods are good, you won't go through one."

In Winterfell, Ser Rodrik was usually the one responsible for Sansa's fight training, along with Bran's. His first daughter used to spend most of the time with Catelyn, who adapted her healing training for icebending, but, ever since she heard about the possibility of being named heir to Winterfell, Sansa has expressed wishes to learn _some_ fighting as well.

Unfortunately, they weren't able to bring any teachers to King's Landing, so now all training she got was from him, and he has always been better at fighting than at healing. Still, he tries his best, and she seems grateful for it.

It was easier to find a teacher for Arya, though the girl also suffered from lack of healing training—not that she seems to mind; his youngest daughter never enjoyed her mother's lessons, and only learned _something_ after realizing being able to heal herself is a great advantage in combat.

He tries to oversee Arya's training sometimes, even if it's just to spend some time with her. He has clearly given Sansa more attention since they came to the capital, and he doesn't want to be unfair.

"I want to try again", Sansa asks. "I'm not tired yet."

He nods and steps in the pool of already melted ice. Sansa takes a deep breath and looks down on the floor, raising her hands. Soon, his leg is covered in ice, a bit thicker than the previous one. It takes three punches to break it. "See? You're already getting better."

"I _should_ improve fast on this one", she remarks, still looking at the floor. "In Winterfell, Robb had to use a stick to break through the ice. I'm just adapting to this weather." She glances up at him. "After this, I'd like to learn to make an ice dagger. Jon showed me how to throw multiple daggers at once with bending, but I need to _make_ them to use them."

The corners of his lips lift up in amusement. "Is that what you do when we visit Jon?"

She shrugs. "We mostly wanted to annoy Robb that day."

He chuckles this time. "Whatever the reason, I'm sure he had it coming." His two eldest children are the ones who get along the most with Jon, since they had more time with him. Arya and Bran are just as fond of their cousin, but they seem to have taken a liking to Jon's partner Ygritte. Rickon is too young to pick favorites yet.

Sansa practices for another hour, until he is called to the Small Council and she is invited to join Margaery for tea. "We'll meet again in two days for training", he tells her as they leave the yard. "If you want, practice with Arya."

She nods, and they part ways. He follows Ser Loras Tyrell to the council room. Ser Loras is the newest Kingsguard, appointed after Jaime's dischargement per the new queen's suggestion. Personally, Ned thinks Robert should have given the cloak to a _metalbender_ instead of a plantbender. As distrustful as he is of Lannister, his bending was useful, way more than Tyrell's, and the Kingsguard was already full of earthbenders—never mind the king himself is a master earthbender.

 _That's far from what Queen Visenya intended when creating the Kingsguard_. The original set up was made of nobles and baseborn alike, but all bending masters, of _different_ elements. For most of the Targaryen dynasty, the appointment of Kingsguard followed a tradition: one spot for an airbender, three for earthbenders (of whichever form), one for a firebender, one for a waterbender and the seventh for whoever the king thought would be best (preferably _not_ a fourth earthbender).

Robert's current Kingsguard is nearly all composed of earthbenders, except for an airbender from House Moore. The Mad King's set up wasn't the best either, but at least Aerys had a reason—he didn't want anyone from too up North—and even then it was slightly more diverse. There hasn't been a Northerman in the Kingsguard since Maekar I; the last waterbenders in the order had been Tullys and Redwynes.

He shakes his head as he enters the council room. All other members are already there, and so is Robert. He takes a seat between the king and Lord Baelish, and Renly begins to speak.

"We have two important matters to discuss", he says. "Two news to deliver. The first is something we already talked about, my brother, but since Lord Stark wasn't here I'll fill him in." He then turns to Ned. "A couple moons ago, Gregor Clegane wedded Jonquil Whent, the Lady of Harrenhal's daughter. I'm sure you remember the two women."

He nods. The infamous tourney in Harrenhal was held for Jonquil's name day. Satisfied, Renly continues, "Lady Jonquil's consent to this marriage has been put into question more than once, especially after a letter came to Storm's End from her mother, Shella, asking for aid, though it wasn't stated for _what_. A few bannermen of mine volunteered to investigate, led by Beric Dondarrion.

"They marched with a small group, and the only _lord_ taking part of it was Beric. He was supposed to gather information and talk to Clegane and the Whent women, but something went wrong, and Beric has been reported dead ever since. Since this is a matter that involved riverlords and stormlords alike, I assumed it would be best to inform the Crown."

It is Stannis who speaks up first. "Is Lord Tully aware of this? House Whent answers to _them_ , after all, not you." Renly nods. "Then I suppose the matter should be settled with them, with you and with Lord Tywin—House Clegane answers to him, after all. If the Crown is to solve this kind of dispute, we won't have a day of peace."

Ned frowns. "We're talking about a possibly forced marriage and a possible murder of a lord. Gregor Clegane is the main suspect of being the one to so brutally kill Elia Martell and her children, and he is _known_ for his brutal violence. House Whent is an earthbender one, yes, but as far as I know neither woman bends, so they have few means to defend themselves." Not that bending abilities made a difference for Princess Elia; the Mountain's physical prowess outpowered most benders in combat.

"You are right", Stannis concedes, "but the rumours that Clegane forced himself are, until proven the contrary, just rumours. It deserves investigation, but it should be dealt with by House Clegane and House Whent's overlords _before_ the Crown. Sending a letter to Storm's End is odd enough already, if you ask me."

"Perhaps they were desperate", Renly supplies. "And now _I'm_ involved as well, given Beric's mysterious death within Harrenhal's perimeter. That counts for _three_ Great Houses involved."

Robert settles the matter. "Stannis is right, Renly. Solve the problem among yourselves, and only bring the subject again if you fail. Now, next matter!"

Renly sighs, but nods and adjusts himself in his chair. "This is news I got from Lord Varys, so I'll leave it to him."

The bald man proceeds to announce Daenerys Targaryen, the exiled daughter of the Mad King, is pregnant of _Khal_ Drogo. Apparently, the girl's wedding to the _khal_ was already a known fact by the Small Council, even though Ned had not been informed of it until now—he had never even heard of Daenerys' _name_ before today. Robert furiously commands to have both girl and fetus killed.

No. That won't do.

"This is not right, or honorable", he says loud enough to stop Robert's angry rambling. "Daenerys is a girl, carrying a child that may not even be born. Even if Lord Varys' rumours prove to be true—as far as we know, those are drunk sailor's tales—there is no guarantee the child will be ever a threat."

"I agree with Lord Stark", Ser Barristan adds. "Killing an unborn baby in their mother's womb will make us no different than Tywin Lannister, or even Aerys. Besides, Daenerys is a _khaleesi_ now, and the Dothraki will never cross the Narrow Sea. They fear the ocean and avoid it like a plague."

"I won't risk any more dragonspawn around", Robert retorts. "The Mad King's children have stayed alive too long."

"We overthrew a centuries-old dynasty to avoid more innocents being killed", Ned replies.

"No", the king's voice is firm. "We overthrew a centuries-old dynasty to finish the House that held it. There must be no more Targaryens in this world."

 _Next he'll order Maester Aemon to be killed as well._ If Ned needs any reason to question why he hid Jon's parentage, he just got it. The memory of Tywin Lannister presenting the bodies of Aegon and Rhaenys comes to his mind. _Even the Kingslayer flinched at the sight, and yet Robert smiled in satisfaction._

"Well, _you_ might have done that, Your Grace", he answers, voice oddly calm, reaching for the Hand pin on his coat, "but it wasn't what _I_ had in mind, and not what _I_ aim for. And while you may do whatever you want, I won't take part of it." Then he throws the pin on the table. "If it's not clear enough, I quit."

He stands up and leaves, ignoring Robert's shout about how he _can't_ quit. Margaery is in the corridor, eyes wide.

He nods at her. "Good afternoon, Your Grace", he greets her, keeping his voice neutral. She, however, doesn't seem to be in the mood for pleasantries.

"Are you leaving King's Landing, my lord?", she asks. He nods. "I suppose Lady Sansa and Lady Arya will leave as well."

For a moment, he pities the queen. She's as young as Robb and Jon, and his daughters are her only company nowadays, for she has yet to get ladies-in-waiting for herself. "I'm afraid so, Your Grace. Starks don't fare well so far South."

"I'll speak to the king", she says earnestly. "He'll listen to me. You don't have to leave right now."

"I doubt he can be swayed, Your Grace, but I appreciate your effort", and he does. "I'll wait for you to talk to him, if it eases your mind."

She gives him a sweet smile. "It does. You won't be disappointed."

With that, they part ways. He is once again interrupted on his way, this time by a guard. "My lord, there is a letter from the Night's Watch addressed to you."

He thanks the man and gets the letter. He waits until he's in the privacy of his chambers to open it.

_To Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North and Hand of the King._

_Dear brother, we in the Night's Watch have urgent news._

_At the moment I write you this letter, it's been a few hours since our nephew Jon and Ser Jaime Lannister fought against a wight in the Wall's lower levels. Yes, a wight. It once was Waymar Royce, a man of the Night's Watch, who had disappeared on a ranging and reported as dead by a black brother._

_Said black brother tried to desert, claiming the dead were coming for us. According to Lord Commander Mormont, he begged to be executed, as long as he was burned so he won't be brought back as a wight._

_I send you this letter informing this so you can try to persuade the king to send us aid. I've written to your son Robb, the Stark in Winterfell, about it, and many other lords are being sent letters as well. Winter is here on the Wall, brother, and it won't be easy on any of us. Jon is well on his way to master metalbending, but I believe he'll be on the road to learn other elements anytime now. Ser Jaime is trying to convince him to do it, at least; he's taking the matter very seriously, and has even proposed to create temporary positions on the Night's Watch, in which men won't have to take the vows to serve and will be released as soon as the threat is dealt with._

_Please, brother, send us reinforcements. Tell the king about these new terms of service, and make him see reason. Winter is here. Winter is here._

_Benjen Stark, builder of the Night's Watch_

He sits slowly on the bed. The news seems absurd, but he cannot deny the letter is from Benjen, nor can he dare think his brother would play him a prank. _I can't leave King's Landing_ , he realizes, _not even if Margaery doesn't talk the king out of his plans to kill Daenerys Targaryen._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, some things are the same as in canon, while others change. Let me clear these things up for you:  
> \- Loras Tyrell is made Kingsguard way earlier. Obviously Renly wants to keep Loras in the capital, and Margaery benefits from having her brother nearby.  
> \- The fight between Ned and Robert regarding Daenerys happens in canon, and Ned temporarily quits his office too.  
> \- Robert's Kingsguard is the same as in canon. The airbender member is from the Vale, which, as stated in last chapter, is an airbender region. The other members are from stormlands, westerlands and the Reach, all earthbender regions. There is also a Dornishman, which is a sandbender zone.  
> \- The Clegane-Whent conflict is completely new, with no canon equivalent whatsoever. It won't be a BIG conflict, but it'll impact many characters throughout the story.
> 
> No, no one in court knows Daenerys is a firebender. It's possible that Varys does, but since Dany doesn't firebend in public, her abilities may not have reached his ears. Given Viserys is known to be a non bender, they probably assume she doesn't bend either.
> 
> As always, feedback is appreciated! I love when you bring up discussions on story elements <3


	15. Bran II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bran meets Bloodraven and begins his training.  
> In the past, a merchant girl receives an offer she can't refuse.

Bran vows to never, _ever_ complain about the cold in Winterfell again.

He wonders if the cold hits him harder because he's not moving much—it's not like he can _walk_ to distract himself. He spends most of the journey on Hodor's back; his wheeling chair was left behind in Castle Black, since it doesn't bode well with the heavy snow beyond the Wall.

Uncle Benjen does his best to ease their way to the cave, but there is only so much an icebender can do with snow. _We should have brought a snowbender along_ , he thinks. The Lord Commander is a Mormont, so it could have been him—but maybe he's a little too old for such a trip, and who knows how long they'll stay in the cave once they reach it? If his visions are accurate, Bloodraven can't exactly _leave_ the cave.

They take shelter in wildling villages and slightly warm caves. Sometimes, they find wildlings wandering around. Uncle is always careful when they get near, but none of them are interested in bothering them. One even says, "You go your way, and I go mine."

They share stories at night, to ease their sleep. Meera and Jojen talk about their lives in Greywater Watch. "Ravens seldom find our home", Jojen tells, "so we are usually left in the dark about what's happening outside the Neck. For a similar reason, we don't have maesters, septons or masters-at-arms."

"Our fighting training is probably very different from yours", Meera adds. "From what I've seen in Winterfell, you rely on bending and swords. We rely heavily on our mudbending, and our weapons are either daggers or bow and arrow."

"We train archery too", Bran supplies. "And how does your mudbending help in case of a battle?"

"It's how we move our towers around, for one", Jojen answers. "Besides, mudbending has an earthbending element to it, so we can move part of the plants. Why face an enemy when you can use nature to trap them?"

They also talk about greensight, a gift that is occasionally given to mudbenders. "It is said firebenders have it too, sometimes", Meera says. "Or at least the Targaryens did. Given who Bloodraven became, it's not a far-fetched theory."

"Our father has the gift, but I'm the most reliable greenseer of the Neck", Jojen adds proudly. "I saw you with Bloodraven, Bran, and us along. That's why we came to Winterfell as fast as we could. But you already know that."

Uncle Benjen stays silent for most of the journey, too busy watching out for dangers. Hodor says his name on occasion, but he also prefers silence most of the time.

Eventually they reach _the_ cave, after facing a blizzard. It is big and deep, but a crow shouts Bran's name as soon as Hodor steps foot on the cave, and then flies inside. "I guess we should follow the crow", Jojen says, and follow they do. Step by step, they go down the cave. For most of the time, the only light around them comes from the torches Uncle Benjen and the Reed siblings are holding, but every now and then a gloomy light surrounds a section of the cave. It's in one of those sections that Bran finally finds him.

The gloomy light makes the skeletal man look greenish blue—or bluish green, he's not sure—but doesn't help him look any less dead. The only thing that tells he is not a wight (at least, not like the one Jon and Ser Jaime fought) are his red eyes, which is said Bloodraven already possessed in life. He turns his head slightly to look at him. "Welcome, Brandon of House Stark", he says, and his voice echoes in the cave. "I've expected you for quite some time." He then turns his head to the others. "Benjen of House Stark, icebender, builder of the Night's Watch. Jojen of House Reed, mudbender and greenseer. Meera of House Reed, mudbender and warrior. Hodor, once called Walder. It is a delight to see so many human faces in person, after so many years."

At Bran's request, Hodor lowers him to the ground, close to where Bloodraven is 'sitting'. With his uncle's help, he crawls even closer. "Well, I'm here now", he says when he touches one of the roots that ground the skeletal man. "And I think you owe us all a better explanation for why we are here."

Something changes in Bloodraven's eyes, and Bran thinks he'd grin if he could. "You are right. Sadly, my voice falters rather easily, so I can't explain everything at once. It's easier to _show_ it, nowadays. I'll do my best, though." His chest puffs; he's taking a deep breath. Then he opens his mouth again. "You know my life story, I suppose."

Bran nods. "Brynden Voyd—or Lightfyre, but you were never known as that—the non bender bastard of King Aegon IV. Declined the Blackfyre name and sided with your trueborn brother when the time came. Served as Hand of the King to Aerys I and Maekar I. Sent to the Wall by Aegon V as a punishment for killing Aenys Blackfyre, along with the king's brother Aemon. Rose to Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. Presumed dead after disappearing while on a ranging. Last wielder of Queen Visenya's sword Dark Sister."

Bloodraven's eyes shine again. "Almost a maester", he comments. "Speaking of the sword, you can find it under these roots. One of your friends may try to get it while we work."

"While we… work?"

"You came here so I can train you, Bran", he states dryly. "I am the last spiritbender, and the Avatar can only fully unlock his powers if he masters all elements _plus_ spirit. My time in this world is running out, so I needed to find someone to train and pass my abilities."

It makes sense, but it doesn't explain it all. "Why me?", he asks. "Why not a wildling, who already lives beyond the Wall? Why not a greenseer like Jojen?"

"Greensight is widely different from spiritbending", he retorts. "I was a greenseer once. It took _time_ to adapt, time we don't have. I needed a non bender, who wouldn't have to _unlearn_ previous abilities. You were an icebender once, I know, but your… situation gave me an advantage I never had before." Bran frowns, but lets him continue. "Your comatose state enabled me to get inside your mind for long periods of time. When I realized your chi was damaged beyond repair, I seized the opportunity."

Oh. It makes more sense than it should, and Bran can't deny the logic behind it. After all, Bloodraven was never able to tell him many things in his dreams after he woke up from his coma.

"How do you plan on training him?", Uncle Benjen asks behind him. "You don't seem to move anything aside from your head."

"Spiritbending is all in the mind", the skeletal man replies easily. "You don't have to _move_ to do it." He coughs; his voice is tiring.

He waits a while before asking. "What about my uncle and friends?"

"They can stay here, or wait until your training is finished to retrieve you", he replies after another while. "The Children of the Forest come here every day at sunrise, with food and water, if that worries you. Personally, I think it's safer if you all stay."

"I won't leave my nephew alone here."

"I don't know the way back", Meera says.

"Neither do I", Jojen agrees.

"Hodor."

"Then it's settled", Bran decides. "We're staying. And… well, we should get started. The sooner I learn, the better, right?"

Bloodraven nods slightly. "Let's begin with some… theory. Spiritbending does not allow you to see the future. That's one of the reasons it's so widely different from greensight. You can see past and present, anywhere, as long as you can find a living being to warg into. Animals are easier, as you can guess from the visions I granted you, but with enough training you can warg into weirwood trees, humans and may even spirit-travel. You can also hold someone's spirit in their bodies, though I don't think _this_ ability is particularly useful." A pause. "When an Avatar masters spiritbending, he can reach the Avatar State and communicate with their previous incarnations. It also unlocks other abilities, but I never cared to find out about them."

Another pause, and a fit of coughing. Bloodraven's voice is hoarse when he speaks again. "I'll tell you more as we take pauses from training. Now, hold the roots tightly. I'll show you an example of seeing the present and another of seeing the past. Pay attention to what you see and hear. Focus is the basis of spiritbending. Don't let your own thoughts distract you from what is happening before your eyes."

Bran does as told, and the world around him fades.

* * *

_The vision of a balcony comes to his eyes. He has wings, but now he is landed somewhere. There is a redhead woman walking around and a dark-haired boy sitting on a wooden chair. He blinks; the girl is Ygritte. Where is she?_

_He doesn't recognize the place, or the boy she's with, but he is a child, that much he's sure of. He looks roughly his age. Ygritte is not wearing the furs she's always seen with, but she's not showing any skin save for her arms. She probably isn't in the North anymore. Did Jon leave the Wall and take her along? Seems likely._

" _I don't like the wind", the boy pouts. "It's cold."_

" _It's the best wind!", Ygritte replies, grinning. "This Vale zone is too hot for my tastes, darlin'. If cold wind is the closest I can get from home, then I'll stand here 'till my bones freeze!"_

 _So she's in the Vale, likely the Eyrie if she's getting cold and strong wind. All doubts are erased: Jon_ is _journeying to the South to master other bending forms. If he's in the Vale, he's learning airbending._

" _Aren't you heading even further south?", the boy asks. "It only gets hotter down there."_

" _Don't remind me", she groans. "The things I do for love…"_

_Internally, Bran smiles. Although it's fairly obvious, even to an untrained eye, that Jon and Ygritte love each other, it's good to hear her say it aloud._

_The boy grins at that. "Your name is Ygritte, right?" She nods. "Well, Lady Ygritte, do you have any songs from beyond the Wall?"_

_He wants to laugh; Ygritte never liked being called a 'lady'. "I'm no lady, Sweetrobin", she replies, softer than he had expected_ — _and Sweetrobin is Aunt Lysa's son, right? So she really is the Eyrie, then_. " _But I know a song. I'll warn you though, I'm no singer either."_

" _It's alright. The singers here sing the same songs anyway. I'd like to hear something new for a change."_

_She sits at his side on the floor. "Well, this song is about a legendary town. I don't know if it ever really existed, but it's said that it was a place where anything could happen if love was the driving force behind it."_

" _What do you mean?"_

" _I think the song can explain it better than my words." She adjusts her position and takes a deep breath. Then, she begins to sing._

" _Are you going to[Scarborough Fair](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hCRLr9JCLT0)?  
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme"_

_Sweetrobin raises his eyebrows and turns to look at Ygritte better. The woman is not the greatest singer around, but her voice is melodic enough to draw attention. As she sings, the vision begins to fade, and only her voice remains._

" _Remember me to one who lives there  
For once he was a true love of mine…"_

* * *

" _Tell him to make me a cambric shirt  
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme"_

_He's no longer in the Eyrie, but in a crowded street. It's covered in snow, which likely means it's in the North. It's nowhere he has ever been to, though. Definitely not Wintertown._

_The street is full of sale stalls. As he walks by_ — _he doesn't know which animal he's in, but it seems that he walks_ — _he sees a wide range of things being selled: many species of fish, clothes and furs of all colors and sizes, some weapons._

" _Without no seam nor fine needlework  
And he shall be the true love of mine"_

 _He stops by one of the stalls, which sells household items carved of wood and metal. He looks up_ — _he must be a medium-sized animal, like a dog or a wolf_ — _and sees a woman dressed in red and black, wearing leather boots and jacket. Her wavy hair is black and falls just above her waist. Her skin is fair and her lips thin and red. He can't see her eyes well enough to sort out their color._

 _She looks at the items with mild interest, then raises her gaze ahead. Another woman, of darker skin but lighter hair, tied in a ponytail, stands behind the table. Her eyes are blue and shine easily in the sunlight. She wears all blue, and is as covered as the first woman_ — _both leave their entire arms clothless. "May I help you?", she asks the other, raising an eyebrow._

_The woman in red and black doesn't miss a beat. "Are you always this charming with customers?", she asks back with a smirk._

" _Tell him to wash it in yonder dry  
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme"_

" _Only with those who don't look like they're buying anything at all", the other replies evenly._

_The light-skinned woman doesn't seem offended. "Oh, I have to admit I was more captivated by the seller than by the items being sold. Do forgive me, my lady." The seller in question flushes immediately, and the not-customer continues, "I'm curious. Your skin is a little too dark for a Skanese, and yet you speak our tongue fluently, without an accent."_

_The blue-eyed woman is still red-cheeked when she replies, "Oh, that. My mother came from that group of Summer Islanders that arrived here twenty years ago. She taught me her native tongue, but I'm way more fluent in ours, especially after she and Father died and I had to find my own way of living."_

_The other woman arches her eyebrows. "Your mother was from the Summer Isles… That's quite interesting. What is your name, by the way?"_

" _Where water sprung and rain never fell  
And he shall be the true love of mine"_

_The seller glances away before turning back to the black-haired woman. "Korra." She says it as if it holds meaning._

_From the other woman's reaction, it_ does _. "You're the Avatar?" Korra nods sheepishly. "What are you doing here, working in the fair? I thought you'd be training all the time."_

 _Bran squints his eyes to take a better look at Korra. He doesn't remember hearing that name when Bloodraven first showed him glimpses of previous Avatars, but there_ is _something familiar about her._

" _I still need money to live, m'lady, Avatar or not. I use my earthbending to make these, so the foreigners will have a trinket from Scarborough Shore, and Skane as a whole, to take to their homes. It pays for my food and ensures I have clothes and sheets to cover myself in the cold."_

_The unnamed woman stares at Korra, to the point the Avatar blushes again. Finally, she says, "You could move to my place."_

"What _?"_

" _Tell him to buy me an acre of land  
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme"_

" _I'm serious", the woman insists. "You called me 'm'lady', so I guess you know who I am."_

" _I actually don't. I only called you such because_ you _called me that first. Though I have to admit, you look and sound like a noblewoman."_

_She smirks and offers her hand. "My name is Asami. I'm from House Sato of Scarborough Shore. The only noble house in the Skanese peninsula, and the only bender house north of the Haunted Forest, but you already know that, I assume."_

_Korra's eyes widen, but she shakes Asami's hand. "My waterbending instructor said she lives in your home."_

" _Master Katara? She does, indeed. It would make things easier for you, wouldn't it?"_

" _Between salt water and the sea-sand  
And then he'll be the true love of mine"_

 _Korra nods, although slowly. "It would, yes… but I don't get_ why _you are offering me your home. You don't even know me."_

 _Asami's grin falls. "All elders claim the days are getting shorter over the years, and the sun is not as warm as it used to be. Master Katara and her brother_ knew _the previous Avatar, and yet they refuse to disclose the circumstances of Aang's death, which can only mean it was terrible. You are the world's best chance at fixing things, Korra, and giving you shelter is the least I could do. How can anyone expect you to save the world if you already have so much trouble fending for yourself?"_

" _Are you going to Scarborough Fair?  
Remember me to the one who lives there  
For once he was a true love of mine"_

 _Ygritte's voice echoes as silence falls between the two women. It takes a while, but Korra finally replies, "It_ would _be helpful, indeed, to not have to worry about my own survival. If you truly are serious about your offer, I accept it."_

_Asami's face softens. "Of course I'm serious. Scarborough Keep has more than enough room for you." Then she smirks playfully. "Also, it will be worth being able to see your pretty face every day." At that, she winks._

" _Are you going to Scarborough Fair?  
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme  
Remember me to the one who lives there  
For once he was a true love of mine"_

 _Korra smirks back. "I don't mind seeing_ your _face everyday either, m'lady."_

" _Good to see we are in agreement", Asami replies smoothly. "But in all seriousness now, I came to the fair looking for obsidian daggers. Clearly I'm in the local stalls aisle, so where can I find the Skagosi one?"_

_The Avatar chuckles and bends over the table, nearly hitting the items on sale. She points to her right. "Down there", she replies. "Right next to Winterfell's stalls."_

" _Thank you. It was a pleasure to meet you, Korra. You can come to my home at the end of the fair so I can show you the place. Is it alright with you?"_

" _More than", Korra replies sincerely. "I cannot thank you enough for your kindness."_

_Asami's eyes shine at that, and only now Bran sees they are green._

" _For once he was a true love of mine."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few notes on worldbuilding and crossover elements:  
> \- If you remember Bran's previous chapter, Korra is the Avatar who rides an unicorn and fights wight bears. Asami is mentioned in that vision, so anyone who knows about them must have guessed from start. It may be useful to say I NEVER watched LoK, even though I know half of the spoilers already.  
> \- Ygritte sings a real life song, 'Scarborough fair', which I get the name of Scarborough Shore from. The lyrics are specifically from Aurora's version, which is my favorite, and the one that makes the most sense for Ygritte to sing.  
> \- Scarborough Shore is obviously a new location in ASOIAF universe, but Skane is not. If you search in the Wiki of Ice and Fire, you'll find Skane is an island north of Skagos; both isles are located far North, near the Wall. In canon, Skane is a deserted isle due to Skagosi invasions over the centuries. Here, the story is very different; Asami and Korra's dialogue provides some hints to what happened.  
> \- House Sato is a reference to Asami's canon surname, and does not exist in ASOIAF. There are no reports on the existence of a noble house in Skane. Also, I know Asami is a non bender in ALoK, even if I said House Sato is a bender one.  
> \- I have way too many notes regarding Aegon IV (Bloodraven's father), his bastards and House Blackfyre. I plan to throw this information as chapters go by, but clarify: bastard surnames here are not given based on the region the baby was born, but based on their father's bending. I already mentioned Frost and Fyre, thanks to Jon, but now there is also Voyd (for non bender fathers) and Lightfyre (for lightningbender fathers). You'll find out more bastards names in the future, don't worry.  
> If you have any doubts, feel free to ask!


	16. Jaime III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon, Ygritte and Jaime arrive in the Eyrie. Jon's airbending training begins. Ygritte learns a bit more about life south of the Wall, and Jaime reflects on his own past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funny thing, I wrote the beginning of many future chapters (and a WHOLE chapter that won't be posted anytime soon) until I remembered what was supposed to come next.

He only visited Riverrun once in his life. His father wished to wed him to Hoster Tully's daughter Lysa, and they went there so the two could meet, and their fathers could discuss a betrothal. He still remembers his time there, clear as day.

_As Hand of the King, Tywin Lannister could aim higher for his heir son than one of his bannermen's daughters. He was almost betrothed to Elia Martell once, but it didn't work for… why, exactly? He can't remember anymore._

_Now Father's eyes turn a bit north. "Lysa Tully is a non bender", he told him before Lord Crakehall sent him to Riverrun, "meaning your bending will prevail over her family's. It's a safer match than the Martell one."_

_His father's actions always have a clear goal: to ensure their house's power. Whether political or bending-wise, House Lannister must always be on top. They are lions, and they do not bow over sheep (only over dragons, but Jaime is not going to say that)._

_He knows no girl in the Seven Kingdoms can compare to Cersei, so he doesn't bother doing so with any of Father's choices of betrothed. Elia Martell was pretty and a good conversationalist, but Lysa was… dull. Boring._

_There is beauty in her, true, but it's nothing like Cersei or Elia. Even her sister Catelyn—who is already promised to a Stark—is prettier, and in all aspects far more interesting. Of course, nobody is more interesting than the Blackfish—the only other Grand Master bender in Westeros aside from Ser Barristan the Bold—but Catelyn Tully is at least tolerable company, unlike Lysa._

_He tries his best to engage in conversation, knowing there are Father's men watching, but it's nearly impossible. It doesn't take long before he's asking Brynden Tully about his feats in battle, uncaring if his eyes shine more upon hearing him than at any second hearing Lysa Tully speak. Sadly, his clear lack of interest isn't enough to dissuade Father from the match._

As they follow the Blackfish up the Eyrie, Jaime can't help but think about how much his acceptance of Cersei's suggestion to have him made Kingsguard was out of desperation to get rid of Lysa Tully. Would things have been different, had his bride-to-be been Elia Martell, Janna Tyrell or even Lyanna Stark?

(The mere idea of him marrying a _Stark_ makes him want to laugh, but that's not the point.)

 _Nothing would have changed_ , he thinks. _I never had eyes for anyone but Cersei, and the prospect of being with her everyday would still be too good to resist. And the glory of being Kingsguard would still be too tempting to refuse anyway._

"How fares your niece, Ser?", he asks the Blackfish, not out of courtesy—he's never been fond of it—but out of genuine curiosity. He hasn't thought of Lysa in years.

Ser Brynden shrugs. "As well as someone who just lost her husband can be, I suppose. Her devotion is now entirely to her son Robert—not that it wasn't the case before." There is something bitter in his voice, which makes him frown, but he gives no reply.

His breath gets slightly harder as they go up, and he wonders how airbenders simply propels themselves up to reach the Eyrie. _It's so fucking high. How does one fly up without getting breathing troubles?_ He guesses he'll find out when Jon learns to do it.

_I'm in the Vale, being guided to the Eyrie by the Blackfish, to oversee the Avatar's training in airbending. How is this my life?_

Since they end up making a stop at one of the waycastles, Sky, their journey takes a whole day. They finally reach the castle's gates in early afternoon; Jaime's stomach is begging for lunch. "I've warned Lysa of your arrival", the Blackfish says. "I didn't give any details on Jon's identity, only that he needs to speak to Lord Royce." He then turns to Jon. "You obviously have to disclose your identity as the Avatar, but I advise you to not reveal your parentage so early. My niece is not really fond of hearing Rhaegar's name, or even Lyanna's."

Jon's frown is translated into Ygritte's question. "Why? Did they harm her?"

Ser Brynden's hold on the reins tighten. "In a way." His tone leaves no room for further questions, despite his words making _everyone_ curious—although Jaime can make a guess. _Lysa was essentially handed to Jon Arryn in the Rebellion, and rumour has it that she gave her maidenhead to Littlefinger._

Neither Lysa nor Robert are waiting for them by the gates of the Eyrie, although he's not sure he should expect it. He remembers being greeted by the entire Stark family in Winterfell, but perhaps they did it because the _king_ was visiting—oh no, he's _not_ going to reminisce _that_. Instead, he silently follows Tully until they enter the main hall, where the boy lord and his mother do await them.

He is _not_ prepared for what he sees of Lady Lysa. The girl he met in Riverrun was skinny, long-haired and prone to giggles. The woman before him is almost as fat as Samwell Tarly, short-haired and carries what he bets is a permanent frown. "Uncle", she greets the Blackfish first, who nods in acknowledgement, "I see you brought Eddard's bastard, the Kingslayer and a wildling woman. What could these three possibly want from House Arryn?"

Jaime glances at Ser Brynden, who looks tired, and at Robert Arryn, who looks confused. "Lord Arryn", he greets, and the boy gives him a small smile. Then he turns to Lysa. "Lady Arryn. I come here as a member of the Night's Watch, fulfilling a task the Lord Commander bestowed me with, which is to oversee Jon Frost's training in various bending arts."

Lysa frowns. "You said _various_ bending arts?"

He nods and turns to Jon, gesturing for him to step up. "My lady", Jon says, "I believe actions speak louder than words, so I'll show you what Ser Jaime meant."

He then proceeds to perform the same trick he did in the Bloody Gate, using ice and firebending on his sword. Robert's mouth hangs open. "You are the _Avatar_?", he asks, dumbfounded.

"Aye, I am", Jon replies, grinning. "I came here, under Ser Jaime's guidance, to train airbending. I've mastered fire, metal and all waterbending forms." _You don't bloodbend_ , Jaime argues mentally, but he supposes none of them needs to know that. "We've heard, from Ser Brynden, that Lord Royce has been staying here in the Eyrie to train Lord Arryn. I'd like to train under his tutelage, if possible."

Lysa opens her mouth to reply, but her son is quicker. "Of course", he answers. "It will be _great_ to train with the _Avatar_!"

"We need to speak to Lord Royce first", Lysa argues harshly. "You may be his lord, but he is your teacher, and you cannot speak for him." Robert lowers his eyes and nods. "I'll fetch him for you, Jon _Frost_. But first, I'd like to know _who_ this wildling is, and what she's doing here."

Ygritte doesn't hesitate. "My name is Ygritte, m'lady. I'm Jon's trusted partner, and I help Ser Jaime protect him."

Lysa narrows her eyes, but says nothing. Jaime can only imagine all kinds of negative things she's thinking about Ygritte, but thankfully his once almost betrothed is not like Cersei, and keeps those thoughts to herself—even if her bitter tone from before reminds him of his sister on her bad days. _When Lysa and Cersei finally have something in common, it's a flaw._ She orders a servant to look for Lord Royce, and for a while all of them stay silent.

Jaime takes this moment to look at the boy lord. Robert is six, if he recalls correctly—news of his birth arrived a year after Tommen's. He's skinny, like his mother once was, but his face is all Jon Arryn (or what he assumes the man looked like when he was younger). He's shorter than Tommen was a year ago, but not terribly so.

It seems that Lysa notices his staring and doesn't like it much. "Sweetrobin, come to your mother", she calls, and he dutifully goes upstairs to sit on her lap. The place falls back on silence, and he avoids the woman's gaze until Lord Royce arrives.

* * *

It is only after Yohn Royce firmly declares he'll train Jon alongside Robert—much to Lysa's chagrin, apparently—that the three of them are escorted to their chambers. Each of them is given a private room; his is next to Jon's, which is in front of Ygritte's. "You go to _her_ chambers if you want", he whispers to the boy. "I don't want to hear you two while I'm trying to sleep."

Since they've gotten their rest in the waytower, they only have time to make themselves comfortable before being summoned to lunch. He has time to fix his hair and contemplates over whether to shave or not.

Cersei never liked him bearded, even when he complained he felt like a baby with his face clean. Something about getting in the way of kissing him, and another something about them being two halves of a whole. _But I'm not kissing her, and I doubt I ever will._ He remembers her promise to come back and make things right again, but even then he couldn't bring himself to hope too much. _And neither of us expected_ my _life to change so much. Are we still two halves of the same soul? Were we ever?_

A knock on the door, followed by a call to meal, brings him back to reality. He sighs; there is no point in dwelling on those thoughts about Cersei. _I likely won't ever see her again anyway._

Lunch with the Arryns makes him realize how used he has gotten to meals with the Night's Watch and the wildlings. Here in the Eyrie it's all too _quiet_. Robert eats his plate dutifully and silently, Lysa looks at them with judgement the whole time, and everyone else seems too content to eat quietly. The only time anyone speaks is when Lysa introduces him, Jon and Ygritte to the rest of the table.

Mya Soil, the eldest of King Robert's bastards. He remembers hearing about her in King's Landing, just enough to know she inherited her father's bending (which makes her rather valuable). According to Mya herself, she is usually the one tasked with guiding guests from the Gates of the Moon to the Eyrie, but lately she has helped 'Sweetrobin'—Robert's nickname, apparently—with his airbending lessons. "I erect walls for him to break through, mostly", she explains. "If you ever want to train earthbending, Lord Avatar, I can help."

"That would be great", Jon replies. "There are no earthbenders in the W—North. It was pure luck that I had Ser Jaime to teach me metalbending." _He doesn't want to say he lives on the Wall_ , he realizes, concealing a frown. _Why? Would it be so surprising that Catelyn would find a way to not have him grow up in Winterfell? Rumours of it have even reached King's Landing. Oh, well. I can ask him later._

They are also introduced to the local maester, Colemon, who reveals Robert suffers from frequent seizures. "It somehow lessens as he improves his bending, but it still proves to be an obstacle for many things in his daily activities." _It explains a few things. If Joffrey, Myrcella or Tommen suffered from such a thing, Cersei wouldn't let them out of her sight either._ He doesn't know if it's a good or a bad thing for the two women to have in common.

Other members of the household introduce themselves, and then everything is quiet again as they finish their meal. At its end, everyone but the three of them, Lysa, Ser Brynden, Royce, Robert and Mya stay. Lady Arryn took the floor. "My son trains every morning and afternoon with Lord Royce", she explains. "In the morning, the two train alone; after lunch, Mya joins them. I oversee matters of the Eyrie in his name in the meantime. He takes a full day break every five days, during which he learns his duties as a lord.

"Jon will train alongside him always, but his training cannot be hindered by the addition. Mya will assist both of them, and Ser Jaime and Lady Ygritte must be available to help if necessary."

He barely manages to not snort at Ygritte being called 'Lady'. Instead, he nods in agreement. "Outside training, you three are free to do as you please around the castle, as long as you don't bring embarrassment to yourselves or to us." At that, Lysa's eyes find Ygritte's and narrow at her. _She's probably calling her 'Avatar's whore' in her head._

Royce details a bit more of the training routine. When he finishes, the Blackfish says he'll return to the Bloody Gate, and bids them farewell. Jaime wishes he could talk more to the man, but deep down he knows Tully has no interest in being in the same room as the Kingslayer. _People still judge me for it, south of the Gift. I can't forget that._

Exceptionally today, Mya is not present at Robert's training. Not only he didn't have his morning session, Royce thought it best to have Jon's first one without her. Instead, the bastard girl sits with Ygritte and Jaime while they watch.

"Since your training is not meant to hinder Lord Robert's", Royce tells Jon, "we'll go through basic theory after supper. Meanwhile, my lord", he turns to the boy, "would you show the Avatar the basic airbending forms?"

The little Jaime knows of airbending is from Robert's father Jon and his former Kingsguard brother Ser Mandon Moore, both airbending masters. As such, he has no idea what the basic forms are supposed to look like.

Robert smiles and starts moving his hands in circles, keeping them close to each other. Quickly, an air ball appears in the space between his hands, growing steadily bigger, until it abruptly disappears. "I can make it bigger and use it to levitate things", he explains, "but Yohn asked to show _basic_ forms." He shrugs. "C'mon, try to do it."

Jon copies Arryn's movements, but only manages to conjure a wind blow directly to his face. Ygritte guffaws at his side, and soon he's laughing along. Jon groans at them. The boy lord is quick to comfort him. "I didn't manage it on my first try", he says. "Granted, I'm not exactly _good_ —it's hard to be when I shake so often—but you don't _have_ to succeed at first try every time. Right, Ser Yohn?"

Royce nods, and Jaime stops laughing when he processes the boy's speech. _He's self-aware, I'll give him that._ _And there is wisdom in his words._

It doesn't take many more tries for Jon to get the technique right, though. Robert shows him other forms, but his attention is divided between watching their training session and hearing the conversation on his side, between the two women.

"How old are you and Jon?", Mya asks Ygritte.

"He's fifteen, and I'm about to turn eighteen."

"Really? I'm a year older than you." A pause. Jon falls from an air ball he tries to sit on. "I noticed you tensed when you were called 'lady'. Why is that?"

"I'm no lady", Ygritte replies without hesitation. "There are no ladies among the Free Folk. We're women, plain and simple. The only titles we carry are mothers, daughters, spearwives."

Mya asks what a spearwife is, and Ygritte explains while Robert knocks Jon down with an air punch. "So wildlings—sorry, free folk—don't marry."

"No, we don't. I mean, sometimes. Our king, Mance, married Dalla—or so he says they're married. I've never seen a wedding, so I just took their word. But usually men steal women, and we fight them off if we don't want them."

"It… doesn't sound good?"

"Women are trained to fight men off since we are little girls. You could say the fight is part of the… mating ritual." He hears them laugh quietly as Royce throws Jon up in the air and urges him to cushion his fall. Robert does it instead, because Jon is not quick enough. "How is it here? I know a few things from Jon's family, but I don't know if it's the same all over Westeros."

"Oh, you'll find it boring", Mya chuckles. "If you are highborn, your parents usually find a match for you when you reach marriageable age. For women, it's younger, because the sooner she starts bearing children, the better."

"So women are merely wombs to be impregnated?"

"If you are a non bender, yes. Bender noblewomen are able to inherit titles and lands, but they are also deemed valuable for marriage. It's… a little complicated, making a match. Many factors are taken into account."

"Like what?"

"Hm… let's take Sweetrobin's parents as an example. I don't know the whole story, but basically, Robert's father needed an heir, an _airbending_ heir, if he wanted the Eyrie to still be held by House Arryn. Do you know how noble houses work?" There is a brief pause, during which Ygritte must have nodded. "Good. Anyway, Lord Arryn married twice before Lady Lysa, both times with airbenders, but they died without children. By that point, most airbender women were already married off, and the rest of them were too young, so he had to look for non bender women."

"Because his airbending would top over any bending blood his wife might have?"

"Exactly. You know how this works?"

"Men tend to steal bender women more, but daughters of benders are also stolen often. In _this_ aspect, I guess we're not so different. _Everyone_ wants to try for bender children. The more benders, the better."

"Agreed." Jon fails again at making an air cushion of his own. "Lady Lysa's father is a waterbender, and I _think_ her mother was a non bender too. If that's the case, her waterbender blood is weak, meaning their children had more chances of bending air over water. Actually, I've heard Lysa received many marriage offers precisely because of that."

Now it's his turn to give input. "I don't know about _many_ ", he says, "but we almost got engaged."

Ygritte tilts her head. "Wait, you were listening all this time?"

"Of course. You are not talking _quietly_ , you know."

Mya shrugs. "See? An example. Ser Jaime's metalbending would top Lady Lysa's heritage too. There is also the matter of status." He turns back to Jon, but obviously he's still listening. "Some noble houses are higher than others in status. There are the Great Houses. I can't list them all by memory, but House Arryn and Tully are among them, which favored the match."

"How about… feelings? Attraction?"

"Hm. It's not… priority. Some couples grow to love each other, but not always. Marrying for love is more common among smallfolk. Bastards can get away with it too, especially if they don't bend."

"What about you?"

He hears a sigh. "I'm an earthbender, thanks to my father. It's uncommon, although not _rare_ , for women to earthbend, so earthbender houses actually see me as a valuable asset. I'm not looking forward to leaving the Vale—my life is _good_ here—but I won't find a husband among Valemen. I was infatuated with an airbender once, but I knew it wasn't meant to be. He recently married Lord Royce's daughter, anyway." Another sigh. "I received a marriage offer from House Connington recently. I'm under Lord Yohn's protection, so the final word is his. He _has_ given me time to think about it, though, and even offered to go with me to meet him."

"Wait, you can marry the guy without meeting him?"

"It happens sometimes."

"That sounds awful."

A chuckle. "I've heard women who prefer it that way. What do I know…"

"You were right. It _is_ complicated. I'm glad I'm not a lady."

"You know, some people _like_ this way of life. They say it is less scary to have your love life decided for you than having to look for a spouse themselves, and risk rejection."

"Those people are _craven_. Being with someone you want should outweigh any ridiculous risks."

 _She has a point_ , he thinks as Jon _finally_ conjures an air cushion and doesn't fall flat on the floor. Again, his thoughts wander to Cersei. _Our case is different, though. Even wildlings frown upon incest. Only Targaryens got away with it, because of their dragons._

Royce announces the training session is over. "Meet me again after supper", he tells Jon. "There are theoretical aspects to cover before we advance in your training. You did well today."

"I'm _supposed_ to learn fast, my lord", he replies, "but thank you anyway."

"You'll beat me soon, I bet", Robert says excitedly. "You'll fly in a sennight."

Jon chuckles. "I hope so, Sweetrobin."

* * *

As days go by, he finds ways to pass the time while Jon trains. It's rare to have him called by Royce, so he and Ygritte often find themselves without anything to do but watch, and it's boring for both of them. There are no towns they can go to; leaving the Eyrie to go _anywhere_ takes at least a full day, and there the mountain clans to account for. He is not looking forward to fighting them again.

Guided by Mya, they explore the castle for three days, including the sky cells. "Of course, those cells are not for airbenders", she explains. "Any airbender prisoners are taken to special dungeons, where air is drained in a way there is only enough to breathe. Don't ask me how, though."

Despite Lysa's orders to not have Robert's training slowed down by Jon's, the boy lord himself asks for extra free days so Royce can focus on the Avatar. His mother protested, but in the end she can't really fight against her son's orders. He _is_ lord of the Eyrie, after all.

Understandably, Robert doesn't wish to be taken to lordly duties in his free days. He _is_ too young for it, even though Jaime thinks Lysa already indulges him a lot. Since his mother _has_ to attend to household duties, Robert is left to other people on those days—him included.

"You're a knight, right?", he asks one day. "And a master bender too?"

"I am a _knight_ , yes", he replies, softening his voice by instinct, like he used to do with Tommen and Myrcella. "But I lost my master title before you were born."

"Oh. I'm sorry." He glances to the ground for a moment before raising his gaze back to him. "But you are still good with a sword? And with bending?"

"Of course. Time only makes it better."

"Can you show me? Lord Royce trains me a lot on airbending, but nothing on sword fighting. He claims airbending is a _defensive_ and _pacifist_ art, so not compatible with weapon fighting, but I _know_ there is an airbender in the Kingsguard."

He nods. "And a vicious one, might I add." Ser Moore's reputation _is_ a bit tainted by his offensive style; Jon Arryn often judged him for his deviance from airbending philosophy—one he wasn't aware of until his son pointed out just now. But he's not going to tell Robert that, not when he disagrees with his deceased father.

"See?", Sweetrobin replies, a little more excitedly than he probably should be. "If he can be a knight, so can I."

Jaime smiles. "You remind me of my s—Tommen. He wants to be a knight too, but his mother never really let him train beyond his bending." He shakes his head, not wanting to think too hard about Tommen. "You want to see me swing a sword? Come, I'll show you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changes from canon:  
> \- Mya's surname, obviously, changes from Stone to Soil, to show she is an earthbender's bastard. As a result, she has more chances of rising higher in status. (Just to make sure, there is no canon interaction between Mya and House Connington, or any stormlanders for that matter.)  
> \- Mya in canon is a member of another House Royce household, namely Nestor Royce of the Gates of the Moon. It would make sense for her to still be under his wing here, but to simplify things, I transferred her xD  
> \- There are no records of dungeons in the Eyrie aside from the sky cells.
> 
> I watched airbending videos to find out what could count as basic forms, since there isn't a list of those like there is of advanced forms.  
> There will two chapters set in the Eyrie, covering Jon's training, and of course we'll explore what's happening in other places too. Feel free to make suggestions and ask questions!


	17. Sansa I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margaery is pregnant, rumours reach King's Landing, and Sansa's future is uncertain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you may have notice I'm not updating as often as I used to. Don't worry, I'm not losing inspiration! It's just that this is a delicate moment of the story; many things are happening (and are about to happen) at the same time, so I need to be careful with what I'm writing before posting each chapter.

Queen Margaery is pregnant after only three months of her wedding to King Robert. The whole court rejoices at the news, and many praise her fertility. Sansa congratulates her, but for whole different reasons. _If she is pregnant, she'll be free of any obligation to bed the king for nearly a year._

Despite the woman's efforts to hide her feelings, it's clear to Sansa that she harbours no love for her husband and takes no pleasure in the marriage bed. This becomes especially clear after Sansa officially becomes her lady-in-waiting, along with a few cousins of hers, Meredyth Crane and Alysanne Buwler. Margaery even asked Arya to be one of her ladies, though the invitation was clearly more out of courtesy than of genuine desire. _Arya may be passable at playing lady, but she doesn't hide her lack of interest in it._ At least her sister was polite in her refusal.

Fortunately, the queen never requested Sansa to share chambers with her. "I won't deprive you and Arya from being close to each other", she declared once. "I know you are all you have from home aside from your father." For that, Sansa is grateful. For all their differences, the two sisters are each other's closest friends in the capital.

As time goes by, their bending improves, and the two have found ways to teach each other a few tricks. Arya has even managed to conjure a couple snowflakes to put in Sansa's hair—both sisters like to use that particular hair decoration in court, to remind everyone where they truly belong.

She misses Winterfell and her family, and it saddens her that she might not return home anytime soon. She wishes her mother and Robb, at least, would visit, but ever since they received Robb's letter about Bran she's given up the idea. It's something that hasn't left her mind—hasn't left Arya's and Father's minds either. _Spiritbending? The Three-Eyed Raven? Bloodraven has been alive all this time? Visions of previous Avatars?_

They received three letters in a row, within less than a month between them: one from Uncle Benjen, one from Robb and one from Mother. Uncle's letter was written not just to his brother, but to the Hand of the King, and talked about the reveal that the Others do exist and pose a real threat to the realm. He asked for reinforcements to the Wall, mentioning a new type of service that was temporary and didn't require vows—apparently suggested by the Kingslayer.

She remembers Jon's plan to take Jaime Lannister to the Wall to train him on metalbending, which led to Father single handedly saving both the Lannister twins. It's impossible to know how the former queen has been doing in exile, but clearly Ser Jaime's punishment has been productive, if Uncle's report about his eagerness to help is accurate.

Unfortunately, Father's efforts to speak to the king are not as productive. The two seem to be at odds ever since that Small Council meeting in which Father nearly resigned from his role. _I wish he had_ , she remembers thinking, but, between Margaery's request and Uncle's letter, Father decided to stay. Sadly, their quarrell meant the king is not exactly willing to listen.

He claimed that, if a newly cloaked black brother and a fifteen-year old boy were able to slay a wight, the Wall should not need the entire realm's armies to defeat the Others—that is, _if_ they are real, and not 'a product of the Kingslayer and the Winterfell's bastard's imagination'.

Not long after that, Robb's letter came with the oddest news. _Bran woke up_ , he began, and Sansa's heart busted with joy. Then the letter continued, _but he's not really the same. Don't get me wrong, his personality is intact, but he can't walk and his chi is blocked; he can longer icebend._

Bad news, of course; she knew Bran loved his bending, and it was always something the two siblings bonded over. It still didn't prepare her for what came after. _He woke up claiming he saw the lives of past Avatars. He gave detailed descriptions of Old Valyria and somewhere Maester Luwin believes to be Yi Ti, among other places that might not even exist anymore. He claimed to have warged inside numerous animals while comatose, and he met freaking Bloodraven._

That sentence is followed by a clumsy attempt to explain what a Three-Eyed Raven is and how Bran found out about spiritbending. _Bran insisted on going beyond the Wall to meet him. Neither I nor Mother wanted him to go, but then Howland Reed's children showed up, talking about greensight, and eventually we realized there was no other choice but to let him go. We took him to the Wall, where he explained the whole thing to the Night's Watch. Lord Mormont let him go with the Reed siblings, Hodor and Uncle Benjen. He told Jon he must learn all other elements before he can be useful to him, for whatever reason._

Father read the letter to Sansa and Arya alone, and the three of them agreed not to talk about it with anyone else. _How_ would they explain it, anyway? They still have trouble understanding what is going on. All she knows for sure is that Bran is beyond the Wall learning a bending form no one has ever heard of before, and even that is difficult to wrap up around her head.

And finally, some days later, they got a letter from Mother. _I'll keep this short,_ it said, _for most of the news has already been sent by Robb. This is more of an update. Jon left the Wall to learn other bending forms. He's on a trip with Ygritte and Ser Jaime. They plan on going to the Vale first, then find a trustworthy earthbending teacher in the stormlands, then go to Dorne for sand and lavabending, then to the Reach for plantbending. Theon suggested he should stop by the Iron Islands to learn bloodbending as well. Ser Jaime told me he'll pose as a recruiter for the Night's Watch, while Jon will pose as a recruit and Ygritte will initially pose as a Winterfell servant for Sansa and Arya. I don't know how well they'll keep up their disguises, though. Be warned._

Father doesn't seem to fear Jon's identity as the Avatar becoming public as much as he fears her cousin's parentage being revealed in the process. "Robert is set on wiping out every Targaryen from the world", he explains. "I doubt Jon being the Avatar will matter more to him than him being Rhaegar's son."

"Do you think he'll write from wherever he is?", Arya asks.

" _If_ he does, it will be to Winterfell", he replies. "It's the only place he can send sincere words without fear of being outed."

Arya's face falls, and Sansa sighs. She misses her cousin. _Wouldn't it be great,_ she thinks, _if Jon could spend some time in King's Landing? Ser Barristan is a Grand Master, he could teach him earthbending._ She knows, however, that the capital is the last place Jon will set foot on if he can help it. _Not only for himself, but for the Kingslayer as well. King Robert also wished him dead._

Margaery's announcement made all eyes in court turn to her, so no one bothered to pay attention to the Starks. By the time gossip calmed down, all three of them had mastered their faces to avoid questions about changes in their mood. Only Father receives attention, thanks to their mention of the Others after Uncle's letter, but since most people didn't take it seriously, the subject is rarely brought back.

Sansa prays the Night's Watch won't actually need the crown's aid. Every night, in the poor excuse of a godswood in the castle, she asks the old gods and the new for a miracle. _Let Jon be enough._

* * *

She is with Margaery when she first hears of the rumours. "The Avatar reborn", Elinor Tyrell says, with something between awe and confusion in her face. "How likely is that to be true?"

"What do the rumours say?", she asks, feigning innocent curiosity. "Do we have names for them?"

It's the queen who answers. "The stories are conflicted", she admits. "Not even Lord Varys can tell which may be the most accurate. Some claim it's a member of the Night's Watch; Ser Jaime's name has been whispered a couple times, apparently."

"It doesn't make any sense", Megga (another Tyrell cousin), interjects. "Why would the Kingslayer hide that he's the Avatar for his whole life only to reveal himself to the Night's Watch?"

"We don't know if he's _always_ been the Avatar", Elinor argues. "For all we know, his powers could have showed up _after_ he took the black."

Sansa wants to chuckle at those words, but she swallows it. Even Maester Aemon was unable to say whether Jon's awakening was early or late in life. Instead, she asks if there are any other names aside from the Kingslayer's. "Some say he looked like a Stark", Elinor replies. "Others insist it's a woman, however."

 _Jon and Ygritte._ Her grip on her dress tightens. Wherever those rumours come from, they are too close to the truth. _Jon is likely dressed all in black, and neither him or Ygritte would give their names away._ "But how are those people so sure there _is_ an Avatar around?"

The Tyrell girls take turns on passing tales. There is a story about bandits on the road being burned, about ice daggers found in the forest near the Eyrie, about fights at inns, among other stories of varied credibility. She doesn't give her input; the best lie is silence, after all.

Later, she reports what she heard to Arya and Father. "Jon's name hasn't been mentioned", she says, voice low in case Lord Varys' spies are nearby, "but what will we do if it is?"

"We'll feign ignorance", Father answers. "We'll insist that Jon is a _non bender_. If he reveals himself to the world, we'll simply say he didn't awaken until after we left. No one can question us on that aspect when they point _Ser Jaime_ as a suspect."

"What about Ygritte?", she asks. "She is posing as our servant. How are they going to keep that story up if they never come here?"

He shrugs. "I don't know, Sansa. Whatever your mother and Lannister had in mind when coming up with that lie, they must have something for when they pass through King's Landing on their way to Dorne. We must not concern ourselves with this, though. No one seems to have recognized Jon, and reports of them stop in the Vale. He must be there, learning airbending."

Silence falls, as neither sister knows what to reply to that. Finally, Arya changes the subject. "Any news on the Targaryen girl?"

Father shakes his head. "It's a forbidden subject now… but I doubt Robert would have spared me his joy if she was dead. I suppose no news is good news, in this case."

Sansa sighs and turns to her sister. "Are you still going to have lessons with Syrio today? I'd like to watch you train."

Arya nods and smiles.

* * *

Days go by. Rumours about the Avatar come and go, less often each day. No news from across the Narrow Sea, and no progress in convincing King Robert to send men to the Wall.

Queen Margaery's pregnancy soon begins to show, but she looks barely bothered by the baby. She remembers Mother being pregnant with Bran and later Rickon, how she got nauseous nearly every meal; seeing Margaery as well as she is now surprises her.

Speaking of the queen, one sunny day she is summoned to have tea with her and her grandmother. Olenna Tyrell has not stayed in King's Landing, but she comes so often to the capital Sansa barely notices her absence until she's back. Usually, Sansa just follows the other ladies-in-waiting as they all gather for tea, but today only the three of them are present. Odd.

She arrives shortly after a training session with Father. They are trying to use ice to heal minor injuries soldiers get while sparring, with various degrees of success. Father _knows_ how to heal with icebending, of course—he wouldn't be a master bender otherwise—but he's not particularly good at it. Mother has taught her quite a lot about healing, but she's a _waterbender_ , so it's not the same techniques. Once upon a time, her parents thought of sending her to Karhold for training, but then Father became Hand of the King and took her to the capital.

Margaery looks radiant. Pregnancy suits her well, Sansa decides. _Reverie from the king does good for her too._ She offers her a cup of tea as soon as she sits down and greets both women. They exchange a few pleasantries, but, as always, Lady Olenna has no interest in wasting time.

"You are a fine woman, my dear", she begins. "And you must know how much your House increased in status after your father became Hand of the King. You can now do much better than a minor Northern House, as good as it is to maintain your bending line." Sansa nods, unable to reply with words. She has a rather clear idea of what Lady Olenna's point is, but prefers to wait for her to actually _say_ it. "Of course, no one with a sound mind would think you'd accept a match that would weaken your bending. I assume your parents already face troubles with the mix of water and icebending in your family. That said, we have a proposition for you."

Margaery takes her turn. "You are a great friend, Sansa, and I'd love to have you in the family. Like Grandmother said, however, we wouldn't risk the future of your house by proposing you marry a plantbender. Elinor has a brother, Luthor. He's a non bender like her, son of two other non benders, so there is no plantbender heritage to mess up with your own. He is a sweet boy, and he'd go to Winterfell with you if you so desire."

All Sansa can say is a question, "Have you spoken to my father about it?" _I'm only nearing my twelfth nameday. He may agree to a long-term betrothal, but not anything else._

"We'd like to speak to _you_ first, my friend", Margaery replies easily, smiling.

Sansa smiles back. "I'd like to have some time to think about it, Your Grace, if it pleases you."

"Of course, Sansa. My grandmother will stay over for a sennight, though. We'd like to send her back with your answer, if possible."

She nods, and Lady Olenna dismisses her. _It is a good offer_ , she ponders as she heads back to her chambers. _But I have a bad feeling about it. I may be the Hand's daughter, but I'm a Northerner. What does House Tyrell have to gain with a marriage with House Stark?_ She can't think of any logical reason, and it unnerves her. _I'll speak to Father tonight. He'll know what to do._

* * *

Seven days later, Lady Olenna goes back to Highgarden with a proposal of a four-year betrothal between Sansa Stark and Luthor Tyrell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- All of the ladies cited as ladies-in-waiting for Queen Margaery are the same as canon. The only difference was that Taena was replaced with Sansa.  
> \- Luthor Tyrell is a canon character, though he has yet to appear.  
> \- Important timeline details: Margaery and Robert got married before Jaime officially took the black. She discovered her pregnancy while Jon was already in the Eyrie, so the beginning of this chapter is set in the middle of the last one. Meanwhile, Daenerys got pregnant roughly when Jon and Jaime fought the wight.  
> \- Next chapters will be narrated by Daenerys, Jon and Tyrion. Chapter order is being decided, so it might take a little while, but they'll be more action packed.


	18. Daenerys III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys tests her bending under duress.

They leave Vaes Dothrak after a fortnight. Dany is cheered up a bit after going through the markets in the city, but the walks around it also bring her memories of happier times with Viserys, back when he was a kind boy.

She hides her grief from her husband ever since she realized Drogo wouldn't understand why she'd be sad over her brother's death, given the threat he posed to her and Rhaego. In fact, she only shows her emotions when she is alone with either Cersei or Ser Jorah.

Her good sister looks troubled by Viserys' death, but there is something in her facial expression that is not the widow's mourning she expected of her. Sometimes, it reminds her of guilt. Over what? Not saving him? _What could she have done? She'd have gotten both of them killed, had she intervened._

Ser Jorah shows little sadness over the loss of his king, which doesn't surprise her; the knight has never really liked her brother, and only saw him as a way home. _Now I'm his best hope. His and Cersei's. I have to speak to Drogo about it._

Her husband, however, is unmoved when she suggests that they sail to Westeros to give Rhaego the Iron Throne. He rants about the true glory of the Stallion Who Mounts the World, but the truth is not hard to grasp: as brave as Drogo is, he fears the sea as much as the next _khal_.

She admits her failure to her Westerosi companions, and Cersei comforts her. "We have time", she says. "I'd rather take longer to go back home than to risk Drogo's wrath. You already saw what happens."

Ser Jorah nods. "Besides", he adds, "from what I remember about the Avatar… he might never be able to take the crown. You'll need another child for it, _khaleesi_."

"Why?"

"The Avatar's role, in the legends, was to act as a mediator between realms and nations. It's generally assumed an Avatar was never a sovereign."

"Oh", she simply says, nodding. _Well, my son is to be a great figure anyway, Iron Throne or not. And Drogo and I can always make another after Rhaego is born._

Her husband spends more nights caressing her and her belly than actually fucking. Apparently, pregnancy period is the exception for the incessant sex between Dothraki couples. Not that she's _complaining_ ; sex every single night can be quite draining, especially after spending the whole day on a horse while _pregnant_. She's been sleeping slightly better lately, and dreams more.

( _A boy falling but never hitting the ground. A castle covered in red. A man screaming in pain as his heart stops. A raven shouting a name she can't recognize. A monkey climbing dark stairs. A woman dressed in green greeting her in a tongue she doesn't understand. Another woman rocking a baby as she sings. Winged wolves, sun-eyed lions, flowery stags. A nine-tower castle, each tower built with a crown on top._ )

* * *

They are on their way to Lhazar when Colhollo's tent _explodes_. It's night time; she and Drogo are woken up by the sound of it. Soon they are on their feet. The tent is on flames, and, judging from the screams, no one who was inside survived.

She catches sight of Cersei leaving her tent, and runs to her. Just as she grabs her good sister's hand, another explosion comes—and she's even more glad Cersei left her tent, for it's the next target of whoever is attacking them.

They run away from the flaming tents as new, small, explosions happen. _What is going on?_ Everyone is either running or preparing to fight, though someone has the idea of lighting up torches in hope to get _some_ view of the threat. Still holding Cersei's hand, she finds Ser Jorah mounting on his horse. "Are you alright, Ser Jorah?", she asks.

He nods and leans closer. "Listen, _khaleesi_ ", he says, hurriedly. "This is no ordinary attacker. There is an assassin guild in Lys composed of firebender who learn the art of combustionbending."

"The _what_?", Cersei asks, her mirroring Dany's own surprise and confusion.

"Combustionbending", he repeats. "It's a firebending style that uses fire to blow things up. As you can see, it's highly lethal. We need to _run_ , not fight. Please help me warn the _khalasar_."

 _Drogo will never run, especially not with Colhollo dead._ The man was one of her husband's bloodriders, and once saved him from sellswords. _We need to see what we're up against. One combustionbender or more?_ The torches are not enough to enable them to see anyone, and some of them begin to explode, burning their holder's faces and rendering them incapable of standing up. _It's up to me. My own fire can't be used against me, can it?_

She takes a deep breath and raises her hands, trying to remember all movements she has seen from firebenders across the Free Cities as she creates a fire arc. It thankfully works, for she can soon see a bald, muscular man aiming at them. She even sees a fire beam appearing from the top of his head. Unfortunately, _he_ also sees _her_ , and fires in her direction.

She throws herself and Cersei to the side just in time to avoid the worst of the explosion, but part of her skin is still burning by the time they stand up. Some Dothraki seem to be running in her direction, but her good sister grabs her arm. "Non benders won't be able to take him down", she whispers. "If I get my hands on a metal weapon, I can sneak behind him. I'm no bending master, but I can do some damage."

She shakes her head. "Not alone", she replies. "I'll go with you."

"You're the one he wants", she hisses. They are hurriedly walking to Ser Jorah. "He was obviously hired to kill you."

"I know", she agrees. "I'll distract him while you sneak on him. It's our best chance."

Cersei insists a bit more against it, and Ser Jorah reinforces it, but she won't hear it. "The more we argue, the more people die on my behalf. Let's _go_ , Cersei. Ser Jorah, give her your sword."

He reluctantly obeys. "Get this arakath", he tells the former Lannister. "Might be useful."

She thanks him with a nod, and both women run away from the camp. Shouting is heard everywhere: war cries, screams of pain, commands. A few catch sight of them, but everytime Daenerys shakes her head, they leave them alone.

The moon is nearly gone that night, so it's incredibly dark; the only light comes from the combustionbender. Still, the man is large enough to be spotted without additional light, now that they know what he looks like. "It seems that his powers come from his forehead", she whispers to Cersei as they crouch down behind a rock. The man is looking at the camp, probably trying to spot her again.

"I think I saw an eye tattoo", she replies, also whispering. "If we hit it, we'll probably block his chi. Then it'll be easy to kill him."

Dany is not eager to kill someone, but she doesn't argue. If they let the assassin live, it'll be only a matter of time before another combustionbender comes for her. They have to end this here and now. "I'll keep throwing fireballs at him", she tells her. "You go behind him as silently as you can. Bend the sword forward; if you break his skull, his chi won't matter."

She nods and, as silently as possible, leaves the rock. Dany waits for her to be a bit far before leaving her place as well, though she doesn't care for discretion. Without saying a word, she fires at him.

The fireball hits his shoulder. He turns in her direction and sees her. She fires at him again. He frowns at her and charges. A blazing arc from her part blocks it. _I can do this_ , she keeps telling herself. _I may not be a strong bender, but my life is at stake. Rhaego's as well, and Drogo's, Cersei's, Jorah's… everyone's lives. I_ have _to be strong._

Whatever the force driving her is, it's enough, for she stands against him for long enough to see his head being cracked in half just as he begins to fire at her. He falls, and she sees her good sister wielding a stupidly long sword. She drops it at the same time Dany relaxes her arms, and two go to hug each other.

* * *

Later, in daylight, Ser Jorah reveals to her and Drogo that he had gotten a warning from Illyrio that Robert had promised lands and lordship to whoever killed the last Targaryens.

"I guess he owes some to my husband", she mutters, but her words are muffled by Drogo's rant.

"This firebender thought he could take us, but the moon of my life proved her strength. Cersei and Jorah the Andals, to each of you I say, choose any horse you wish from my herds, and it is yours. Any horse save my red and the silver that was my gift to the moon of my life. I make this gift to you for what you did. And to Rhaego son of Drogo, the stallion who will mount the world, the Avatar reborn, to him I also pledge a gift. To him I will give this iron chair his mother's father sat in. I will give him Seven Kingdoms. I, Drogo, _khal_ , will do this thing. I will take my _khalasar_ west to where the world ends, and ride the wooden horses across the black salt water as no _khal_ has done before. I will kill the men in the iron suits and tear down their stone houses. I will rape their women, take their children as slaves, and bring their broken gods back to Vaes Dothrak to bow down before the Mother of Mountains, as the stars look down to witness."

 _Maybe I can convince him not to rape any women or take any child slave?_ Oh well, she supposes she can worry about that when they get on a ship. At least her husband is willing to sail west now. _All it took was a combustionbender to change his mind._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone asked if we were ever going to see combustionbending, aaand here it is xD
> 
> Drogo's final speech is almost the same as the one in the book; only the beginning is changed to fit what happened.


	19. Jon IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon continues his airbending training.

Lord Royce is keen on making Jon meditate for _hours_. "I'm familiar with meditation already", he insists. "Maester Aemon taught me when I was a child."

"If you are indeed familiar with it, then it won't be a bother."

Meditation for airbending differs from the one he's used to for firebending, though. For starters, it can effectively be done at any moment of the day, while he had to wake up ridiculously early with Maester Aemon, for firebenders 'rise with the sun'. Looking back, Jon thinks his repeated failures at being an early riser should have been a sign that he was no _ordinary_ firebender.

(Then again, Maester Aemon suspected of his true powers from the start, thanks to the prophecies he fit.)

The second difference was the focus. While his previous meditation was focused on self awareness and control, the one Lord Royce teaches is focused on liberation and peace of mind. _A firebender's mind must be rid of anything that clouds his judgement_ , Maester Aemon used to say. _An airbender's mind must be clear of earthly troubles_ , Lord Royce says now.

Jon has feeling both principles should be complementary, but somehow they seem _opposing_ when it comes to more practical terms. As in, it's much _harder_ to focus in airbender meditation. Granted, it's been a while since he had any real need to meditate; his firebending moves are intuitive by now, and neither waterbending nor metalbending require meditation; all Jon had to do at the beginning of each training was to learn to feel the element he was bending.

(But it's not like one can _feel_ air or fire, is it? That's probably why meditation is such a crucial step.)

Royce's approach to physical training also differs from what he's used to. Maester Aemon, Mance Rayder, his aunt, his uncle and Ser Jaime all focused on taking the first step: whether he's attacking, healing or doing mundane tasks, he's _acting_. Airbending is clearly a _defensive_ art, founded on _reactions_. "Airbending is all about spiral movements", Royce explains. "When you meet resistance, you must be able to switch direction at a moment's notice."

It fits with what he's told about the Vale and its airbenders. Initially occupied by the First Men, the region became an airbending one after the Andal invasion—not because the Andals established themselves there, but because it provided an opportunity for people for Eastern Essos to settle and populate the place. It is unknown _where_ exactly they came from: some sources claim the Vale airbenders descend from Shadowlanders, others say they came from the Great Empire of the Dawn (nowadays the nation of Yi Ti), and a few claim they were the Jogos Nhai, a nomad race that usually stick to… as east as they can, apparently.

"Why did they come so far west?", he asks Lord Royce.

"No one knows", he answers. "Whatever the reason, it wasn't recorded here. Perhaps the people of the lands they left behind have an idea." _But so far no one has bothered to ask_ , he assumes.

Point is, the Vale nobility built castles as a defense against non-airbenders; notably, the Eyrie is to be essentially impenetrable unless the attacker can airbend—or _ride a dragon_ , as Visenya Targaryen proved hundreds of years ago. There are exceptions, of course, but it's generally accepted that a mountainous region like the Vale is more suited to airbenders than… to anyone else, really.

Jaime doesn't hide his distaste for the place, although it's arguably more due to Lady Lysa than to the actual Eyrie. Aunt Cat's sister clearly holds some grudge against him, and he has no interest in making amends. Is it solely because of their failed attempt at a betrothal?

He gets along with most of the household, once they are willing to look past his kingslaying and sisterfucking, and he seems to like to spar with Mya—who truly is a nice girl, even though she's ruthless in her training.

Despite his hopes that he'd be able to easily switch between airbending training and earthbending training, he finds out it's practically impossible. Like water and fire, air and earth are opposing elements, and balancing them enough to bend them at the same time is something he cannot do while he's still _learning_. He thought his metalbending skills would be enough to make things remotely easier, but Jaime was right: metal and earthbending, while falling under the same general category, _are_ different in nature.

So, his training sessions with Mya are actually to help develop his _airbending_. She has repeatedly offered to train him on earthbending after he's done with air, though. "I might head to Griffin's Roost soon", she told him, "to meet my possible future husband. I could teach you on the way. Maybe even there, too."

Jaime sees no trouble in accepting her offer, so he does, and she talks to Royce to delay her departure until he deems Jon good enough to leave. Ygritte is delighted to have another girl in their group—even though Jaime is likely to be the one who will benefit the most from Mya's presence.

He and Ygritte have been trying to sneak into each other's chambers whenever they can. More often than not, they just cuddle, because Jon is usually too tired for anything else—and often _she_ is tired too, since she spends a lot of time sparring. It's great either way; he just wants her close. This trip has granted them more time together than ever before, and he wants to savor every moment.

He still remembers vividly the way they got together romantically.

_In his defense, Jon had no idea how… 'courtship' worked north of the Wall. Ygritte has been his friend since they met a year ago, no matter how much Mance, Val, Tormund and many others insisted they were a couple. She never seemed to mind their words either, so they just lived in the warm bubble that was their friendship._

_Until one day, around his thirteenth nameday, he basically drags her to go to Winterfell with him. He doesn't understand why she fights him so hard on the way there. Alright, maybe his approach wasn't the best: he basically woke her up, pestered her to get dressed, took her arm and led her to the small carriage. Not the gentlest way, but 'gentle' is not a word he'd use to describe their relationship._

_In Winterfell, she behaves strangely, as if she made some groundbreaking discovery about him. She doesn't tell him anything, but she does tell Robb and Sansa, and they begin to act weird with him too. It's only after they go back to the Gift that Ygritte explains. "Any free man who wants a free woman has to steal her. She puts up a fight, to see if he's really worth it. He passes the test, and they stay together. Kind of married."_

" _But you barely put up a fight", he replies after he dwells a bit on their trip to Winterfell. He knows she can be a lot fiercer than she was then._

" _Oh, I never said the woman has to give her best", she answers easily and sheepishly. "I've wanted you for a while, Lord Avatar. You just gave me the perfect opportunity to lay my claim on you while making it look like it was your idea all along."_

_Which is a very Ygritte thing to do, if he thinks hard enough about it—though he suspects Dalla's sister Val is behind that reasoning too. It's a trick she would (and probably will, someday) pull off._

Of course, going to the Gift and back to the Wall is not something he can do all the time; it's not viable. He spends some days in the Gift, training under Mance and other benders, and some others days on the Wall, perfecting his skills. Ygritte rarely goes to the Wall, especially after she gelded a recruiter who tried to bed her against her will.

" _Why didn't you scream for help?", he asked. "The fight would have finished quicker."_

" _I didn't_ need _help", she replied. "Screaming seemed like a waste of energy that could be spent getting rid of his balls. It will be a lot easier for him to follow those stupid vows now."_

He's pretty sure that was the day he actually fell in love with her. He knows he realized his feelings when he saw her with Arya and Bran.

The first problem they faced in their relationship was physical intimacy. Ygritte was no maiden, though she insists, to this day, it only happened once. Regardless, it was _his_ fault, not hers. He was the one to stop things when they got too heated.

" _I'm the Avatar", he says. He tries to explain himself further, but Ygritte's confused voice interrupts him._

" _Yeah… does that mean you're to stay virgin forever?"_

" _No, that's not it, although I wouldn't rule that out", he rambles. "My fear is getting you with child. Do we know anything about Avatars' offspring? What of you are targeted? What if the child is targeted? What if the child is all-powerful from the womb and they kill you_ —"

" _Okay, okay, I get it", she interrupts him again. "So the problem is that you don't want to get inside me to avoid a pregnancy." He nods. "Then it's solved. There are other ways to bring pleasure to ourselves. I don't know them all, but I can just ask around. If you want to."_

" _I very much want to."_

He knows Ygritte craves for complete intimacy between them two, and Jon honestly wants the same, but so far they've been able to compensate for it. _I should marry her before uniting with her_ , he thinks often. _It would feel symbolic._ According to her, they _are_ sort of married, since the incident in Winterfell, but maybe one day he can convince her about a wedding in the godswood.

For now, though, he'll take what he can get.

* * *

He's making fast progress, even by normal standards, according to Lord Royce. His words remind him of Maester Aemon's; that everything would be easier for him after mastering waterbending, because he started with the hardest element for him. It also reminds him of Ser Jaime's remarks on his quick evolution in metalbending.

He's glad for it. The quicker he learns all elements, the sooner he can go to Bran and find out about this spiritbending thing and its importance. It's not something he brings up often—mostly due to Lannister's guilt over the incident that started it all—but it _is_ something that visits his mind regularly, despite the complete lack of information on the matter. Nobody seems to have ever heard of it before.

(He has ended up learning a lot about the Blackfyres and Aegon IV's great bastards thanks to his research on Bloodraven. Aside from a reminder that he has to learn lightningbender at some point—meaning he'll likely have to make a trip to Essos after this—it was a fruitless research on what he really wanted to learn.)

Anyway, apparently he has made enough progress that Royce decides he can move on to master-level abilities. Sweetrobin is more excited about it than Jon himself. "You'll learn to _fly_ ", he tells him at supper. Lady Lysa is looking sternly at the two of them. "It's been my dream ever since I first airbent, it's so _cool_!"

Flying is certainly cool, and even his attempts are entertaining. When Royce tells him to use his hands to propel himself up, at first he ends up firebending for it. Robert finds it awesome, but Royce is able to tell the difference and reprimands him for it. "You cannot rely on firebending to fly properly", he says. "It won't be enough. Prince Rhaegar tried to escape King Robert with it, and look where it got him. It lacks agility and range. You can only propel yourself so high with firebending, while airbending mastery can make you reach great heights."

Still, it's hard to unlearn his instinctual bending, the one he's relied on since he was three years old. Maester Aemon never really taught him how to propel himself with fire, but, like cooking, he has discovered the ability all by himself. Looking back, he sees it was a hint that he was no ordinary bender.

After a sennight, he finally manages to use _only_ airbending to lift himself up in the air. Some more days of incessant training later, he is able to fly high enough to see most castles of the Vale.

"Excellent", Royce praises. "Now, we need to train your ability under duress."

He is confused for a whole day, until he takes him to the sky cells. "I'm sorry, my lord, but _what_?"

Sweetrobin is way too happy about this. "You have to lift yourself up before you fall to your death! _Cool_!"

No, this isn't cool at all. No matter how much Ygritte seems to enjoy his panicked face. _Thank the gods Jaime decided to spar with Mya this morning. I really don't need his teasing right now._

Impassive as usual, Royce guides him inside one of the cells. "This is one of the steps of an airbending master trial", he explains as they stop at its edge. "All airbenders who aspire to be recognized as masters come here at some point. The trial requires us to fall, propel ourselves up and then fly to the Gates of the Moon. I won't demand all this of you now, but eventually I'll submit you to a typical master trial, and you _will_ do all of this. But first, you'll just save yourself from having your head smashed against the rocks down there. It's quite the fall; you have time to propel yourself up before meeting the ground."

"Is that supposed to calm me down?", he asks, louder than intended, eyes fixed on the vast green and gray below him. _It is quite the fall indeed_.

"I'm unsure of what _could_ calm you down", Royce replies, unbothered. "You can jump, or I can push you; whatever works best. All it takes—"

Robert interrupts him with an excited tone. "—is a leap of faith!"

_A leap of faith. Well, if that's what Sweetrobin wants to believe._

"Alright", he replies, voice trembling slightly. "I'll jump."

"Are you sure?", Royce asks, looking genuinely concerned. "Some prefer to be pushed."

He takes a good look at Royce and, for a moment, considers taking his offer. Everything in him screams _not_ to jump, and he knows he might not be able to do it.

But he suddenly remembers what made Bran go beyond the Wall to meet a man who was supposed to be long dead: _a push_. An accidental push, sure, but a push; it was not his choice to lose his leg movement and his bending. However, _going_ to Bloodraven _was_ his choice. He _leaped_. He made his own jump; the strongest evidence being the way he treated Jaime on their brief interactions.

All his life, Jon has been _pushed_ to do what he had to do. He sneezed fire and burned Robb's arm; therefore, he was sent to the Wall to hide from King Robert and train with Maester Aemon. He icebent while playing with Sansa, then named the Avatar reborn and taught the waterbending arts. He might have left the Wall on his own volition, but was it really his choice when the Others were coming so close?

He then remembers things that _were_ his choice. All he mastered of firebending without Aemon's help. His efforts to spare the Lannister twins' lives, done both out of selfish reasons—getting a metalbending teacher—and decency—he didn't think their crimes needed to be punished by death. All the friends he's made in the Night's Watch and among the Free Folk.

 _Ygritte_. She was his biggest choice, his biggest _leap of faith_ , one he takes everyday, again and again, with no hesitation because she's worth it.

He cannot choose to not be the Avatar. He didn't ask for this, but he believes he was chosen for a reason. What he _can_ do is to become the best Avatar he can be. Try to be what the world needs of him.

If he can't jump on his own, will he be able to do what he'll have to when the time comes? If he can't make a simple choice such as _taking a leap of faith_ , will he be able to make harder choices if necessary?

He shakes his head at Royce. "Thank you for your offer, my lord, but no. I'll jump."

And so he does.

* * *

Everything is a blur at first. He can't make out anything out of the grey and green.

Then some blue appears. A river? He can't be sure.

_I won't be able to appreciate the view while falling. I need to lift myself up._

He starts making wave movements with his hands. He threw himself from the sky cell, so it's his chest and head that are potentially facing the ground; he can't use his legs like he did to lift himself on the yard. He tries to copy the movements required to make air waves and air balls. He feels an itch on his fingers to just _propel_ with fire, but _no_ , he needs to think it through. _Fire propelling won't take me far_...

...But it's a start, right? And it's not like he won't be able to count on his firebending someday. It'll always be there, just like his airbending is. _I just need to push myself up for long enough to use my legs, then I'll fly with airbending._

He stretches his fingers, and fire comes out of them in an instant. This is way more natural to him than airbending. _But once upon a time, it wasn't_ , he reminds himself. _Airbending can be as natural as firebending to me someday, if only I allow it_. Now it's not the time to dwell on it, however, so he focuses on propelling himself up and adjusting his position so his head is facing upwards.

Once he manages to it, he keeps the fire on his fingers, but starts moving his legs in circles. Slowly, air waves form under him, lifting him up. Once he feels safe enough, he stops firebending and uses his hands to make more air waves. It takes time, but eventually he's going up at an acceptable pace.

He keeps moving, and he flies faster. He can make out trees and rocks now; it's beautiful, even though he still can't take mind to appreciate the landscape. He looks up to the sky. The sun is not entirely up yet, so he's not blinded by it. There are clouds, and he contemplates reaching them, for a moment.

 _No_ , he decides. _I'll land in the sky cell._

After what feels a lifetime, he's facing Lord Royce, Robert and Ygritte again. His mentor pats his shoulder, Robert squeals excitedly, and Ygritte gives him a peck on the mouth.

"You did great, Jon", Royce appraises him, but he shakes his head.

"I used firebending for a first push", he admits. "I had trouble using only air."

"I figured you would", the man replies easily. "We just need to practice it more. Are you ready to do it again?"

 _No, not really._ "I am."


	20. Tyrion II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tyrion cannot believe his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is one of the longest chapters to date, because many things happen. The time frame is around six weeks.  
> Warnings: mild depictions of violence, character death.

His trip to the Wall is confirmed after Jaime's letter arrives, now with a messy handwriting that is unmistakably his. "Jaime insists the threat is real and aid must be sent to the Wall", he tells Father.

The man sighs. "Very well. I'll gather some men to go with you and Joffrey, but only after we talk to the Daynes. I doubt there is some _actual_ urgency in sending troops. Your brother only mentions _one_ wight fight in his letter."

There is logic in Tywin's words, and Tyrion isn't really _excited_ about the trip, so he doesn't argue. Instead, he retreats to his room, thinking about what a marriage with Allyria Dayne could bring him.

There are obvious advantages. As a non bender, Allyria's heritage doesn't weigh more than his, so metalbender children can still come from their union. Not that he's all that worried about it; there are three bastards he can legitimize if the need for it arises. Another good thing is an alliance with Dorne, which works quite well for him and his goals.

Everyone knows House Martell is at odds with House Lannister, ever since Princess Elia and her children were killed. Gods know how they'll react if he and Allyria do marry, but he _can_ use it to his advantage. _I was a child back then; it won't be hard to convince them I don't approve of what was done. If I can get close to the Martells, we can make a way to avenge Elia's death… with Father's. Stage it to look like an accident, so I won't be forced to act on retribution. My marriage to Allyria will help strengthen my hold on the West, and I can use this incoming trip to the Wall to make my own contacts. The Martells get their revenge, and I get mine._

He hopes this betrothal works; it's his best bet to get Father out of his way. _He won't even see it coming, busy as he will be satisfied with an alliance with House Dayne._ Question is, what will the _Daynes_ gain by this marriage?

_Mayhaps Lady Allyria has been rejected numerous times before, like Lady Brienne of Tarth, and her brother is just glad someone is willing to wed her. Is that all, though?_ Oh well. He'll certainly find out when they arrive. In the meantime, he proceeds to call for their bannermen to their trip.

* * *

Despite Tywin's protests, Tyrion has Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen dress up to meet the Daynes. "I don't care if they are bastards", he says. "They are our family and will be treated as such." _They are all I have of Jaime now._

He _probably_ should be missing Cersei slightly more, since he _can_ visit his brother—and he _will_ , soon—while his sister hasn't been heard of in months, but it's no secret he and Cersei held no love for each other. He's honestly relieved she's gone, and the only downside is how his nephews and niece clearly miss her.

(Myrcella and Tommen seem to miss Jaime, too, though he can't say whether they miss him as an uncle or as a father. Joffrey doesn't seem to feel the same; he misses the father he thought he had.)

The Daynes arrive by ship, but they wait for them in Casterly Rock itself. From a distance, he can make out three people dressed in purple. As they approach, it becomes obvious who is who: the solitary woman must be Allyria, the tall man must be her brother, Lord Allar, and the small boy must be his son Edric.

The three of them greet Tywin, Tyrion, Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen with equal courtesy, which makes Tyrion secretly glad. Then, Father offers to have them taken to their chambers, so they can unpack and get ready for supper—it's late afternoon already.

Their first conversation is on the dinner table. Tyrion sits between Tommen and Allyria, while Father and Lord Allar sit across them. After small talk is briefly carried on, Allar is the first to bring up the subject. "So, my lords", he begins, addressing both father and son, "I must say we were all surprised to receive a letter from Casterly Rock talking about a possible betrothal with our House. I can't even remember a time where Houses Dayne and Lannister were ever involved in a marriage alliance."

Tywin doesn't miss a beat. "My son and I thought it would be a good opportunity to establish alliances with your house, and Dorne as a whole. As you must be aware, Tyrion is now the sole heir to Casterly Rock, and needs heirs of his own."

Allyria frowns. "But there are _three_ heirs on this table", she blurts out. "I know they are bastards, but…"

It's Tyrion who replies, before Father can show his judgement over Dornish culture. "My nephews and niece are great options for inheritance, should I die without issue. All three are metalbenders, which puts them in advantage. However, Casterly Rock should ideally be passed over to _my_ children, when the time comes, which is why they are _alternatives_ , not our first option."

The lady nods in understanding. Tyrion goes on, looking at her _and_ at her brother. "Since I am a non bender, one would expect me to look for a bride in metalbending families. However, most women from those families are too young or too old for our purposes. We had to look a bit farther, and House Dayne seemed a great prospect. You come from an old and respected line that can trace its origins to Old Valyria. You are also the _only_ noble family in the world who lavabend. You have few feuds against other families, none of which maintain any kind of relationship with _us_ , so we are not risking anyone's wrath."

Allar nods. "Those are sensible reasons, indeed. I must admit, we nearly refused you. With the recent events that befell your House, we were a bit wary at first. However… we realized we have something to gain too, if you agree with our terms."

Tywin frowns. "What terms?"

Allyria is the one who answers, "They are simple, really, and we deem them rather agreeable. You must know, my lords, that my nephew Edric is the last lavabender in Westeros, and possibly in the known world. The last ones of our house died fifteen years ago, and the last one of our cadet branch was our mother, who is also long gone. Just as you wish to maintain a metalbender line for Casterly Rock, we wish to reassure House Dayne's lavabending won't die out.

"Until recently, I was betrothed to a non bender stormlord, Beric of House Dondarrion. Sadly, he died in mysterious circumstances while travelling to Harrenhal. Many lords are investigating what happened, but the fact that I'm without marriage prospects remains. When your letter came, we also saw an opportunity."

Tyrion nods, already sensing where this is going. She goes on, "Lord Tyrion is a metalbender's son, while my parents were lavabenders. This means any child we have may bend one of the two elements. We can agree on this marriage _if_ any lavabender child is sent to Starfall and raised as a Dayne instead of a Lannister."

Tywin raises his eyebrows. "Is that all you request?" Both Daynes siblings nod. "Very well. I think I speak for my son when I say we have little interest in lavabender Lannisters."

Tyrion nods and adds, "If the child doesn't metalbend straight away, we'll take them to Starfall to test their lavabending. The castle is under an inactive volcano, right?" Allar nods. "Then I suppose it's settled."

Allyria smiles, and her brother agrees. _This went easier than I thought._

* * *

Edric Dayne gets along rather well with Tommen. His youngest nephew has many questions about lavabending, and the young boy is more than pleased to answer them. "Lava can be found anywhere, actually", he explains. "One of the first abilities I developed was to sense lava underground. Of course, some places have more lava than others. I've heard the worst places for a lavabender are the stormlands and crownlands. Only a master can summon lava there, and even there it's hard."

"Can you sense lava here?", Tommen asks, eyes wide and shiny.

"Weakly", Edric replies, "but we are up high. While we walked through Lannisport, I sensed it just fine. I'm not skilled enough to summon it without destroying the ground yet. People say my uncle could raise lava with nothing more than a small crack."

They keep on talking, and he catches sight of Allyria. Now that they are out in the daylight, he can take a proper look at her. Her hair is light brown—a mix of her brother's pale hair with her sister's black one (he remembers enough of Ashara Dayne to know this)—and her purple eyes shine from afar. Her skin is tanned, but not so much she doesn't look like the Valyrian descendant she is. Her body is slim, and her purple dress—do Daynes wear anything aside from purple?—is not form fitting.

"My lady", he calls as he walks in her direction. "Care for a walk?"

She smiles softly—her smiles seem to be soft. "I'd love to, my lord."

They walk away from the yard where Tommen and Edric are, and into the gardens. "So, my lady, it seems that we are to be wed in the foreseeable future", he begins. "I say, we should get to know one another a bit before we are to spend the rest of our lives side by side."

She nods. "I agree, my lord. I'd hate to wed a man I know nothing of. What would you like to know?"

He decides to start with something neutral, yet useful. "Would you tell me about your life in Starfall?"

She raises her eyebrows. "As in my current life, or my life story?"

"Whichever you prefer, my lady."

Her glance moves from him to the sky above. There are some clouds, but the sun is still easy to spot. It's something he quite enjoys about his homeland: it's always sunny, even in the cold winter.

It takes a while, but she finally speaks again. "It has been a bit lonely since… Since my sister died." Her face falls, sadness clear in her expression and voice tone. "It seemed it would get better when my brother got married, but his wife died birthing Ned. Fortunately, the Stranger did not take the baby along, so caring for him was a distraction from grief both Allar and I embraced. It's been us three ever since.

"I spend my days helping the household. Things there are different from here; we don't have noble houses serving our own. Allar and I take turns supervising Ned's training, along with our master-at-arms. We all work from memory and a couple lavabending scrolls the maesters at the Citadel copied for us. I do some embroidery, though I'm not very skilled at it; I prefer the more administrative tasks."

Tyrion grins at that. "It's good to know I'll have a wife willing to help me in that regard." _She would have been even more helpful to my brother, had he been the one to stay in the Rock._ "So, you don't have many friends back home?"

She tilts her head. "The servants and maids make fine friends, but sadly, it's not the same. I've been to Sunspear a few times. Have you ever heard of the Sand Snakes?"

"I know they exist, but nothing else."

"It's alright. They are Oberyn Martell's bastard daughters. Eight in total, if I recall correctly. I've met the three eldest, along with his long-term lover Ellaria. She's a bastard as well. Anyway, they are good company, and I'd have loved to actually befriend them, but my duty always calls me back to Starfall."

He asks more questions, and she asks some in return. He learns she was a child of six when her siblings died, and that not long before their deaths she had also lost her parents. She tells him about the cadet branch of House Dayne that is settled in High Hermitage, and how she doesn't get along well with its members.

It's what she _doesn't_ say, though, that intrigues him. She gets slightly tense every time Ashara is brought to the conversation, talking as if she's watching her own tongue. The one time he tries to press more, she simply tells him that some things are not hers to tell. _Then they are nobody's to tell_ , he supposes, _for the owner of those stories is long gone. What secrets do you hide on your sister's behalf, my lady?_

Well, he can't judge her. He avoids talking of Tysha when she inquires about his past, and does his best to hide his distaste for his father. He also speaks little of the recently publicized affair between his siblings, though, in all fairness, _she_ barely touches on the subject.

As the sun sets, they head back for supper, still talking. All in all, he has a feeling this match of his will be a good one. _At least I'll have a friend in my wife._

* * *

Allyria has asked her brother and Lord Tywin to stay for a while longer so she can get to know Casterly Rock and Lannisport better. "I know my betrothed has matters to attend in the North", she says, "and I know you have to be back in Starfall, brother, but I'd really like to stay a bit longer."

It takes a while, but Lord Allar eventually concedes. "I ask that you escort her back home, my lords", he tells him and his father. "That way, you can visit Starfall as well."

"Of course", Father agrees.

The day Allar and his son go is also the same day Tyrion and Joffrey depart. "Remember what we discussed", his father says, pulling him aside. "Do what you can to leave Joffrey on the Wall. His presence here does little to repair our reputation."

Tyrion nods. Joffrey has rarely shown up while the Daynes were in the Rock, and made little to no talk with them. Although this is probably better than having him throwing tantrums, Tyrion finds himself worried about his nephew. _Joffrey was never this quiet. He has retreated a lot since he found out the truth of his parentage; even on training sessions, he's sullen._ The boy didn't even protest when he was told he was to go to the Wall with Tyrion; all he asked was if the Hound was coming along.

"He _is_ your sworn sword", Tyrion replied, "so yes."

Clegane has decided to stay at Joffrey's side after his bastardization, for reasons Tyrion has yet to fully comprehend. One would think he'd go back home after his brother Gregor claimed Harrenhal for himself, but the man huffed at the suggestion. "I'd sooner have the other side of my fucking face burned", he said.

Tywin reasoned having the Hound as the three children's sworn sword would be good to send a message regarding House Lannister's worth—as in, they were so important, even the bastards are protected. Myrcella is not overly fond of him, and Tommen is a bit afraid of him, so he mostly stays at Joffrey's side, even though his oldest nephew hasn't spoken much to him recently.

Regardless, Sandor is with them when they get on the ship, and so is Jaime's old friend Addam Marbrand. "I won't miss a chance to see Jaime", he says when they are on the ship. "This may be my only one."

"If the contents of his letter are true", Tyrion replies, showing him the two letters sent by his brother, "I'm afraid there will be more occasions for you to meet."

Addam read the missives quickly; he already had an idea, of course, given he was one of the men responsible for organizing the small expedition. "You know how mad this sounds, right?", he says when he finishes reading. "Even so, if Jaime says it, it must be true."

"That's what I think", he agrees, "which is why we are going. It will be easier to gather the forces he asks us for if we get a glimpse of the threat he speaks of."

* * *

As the days go by, Tyrion tries to get his nephew to talk to him. It's far from an easy task. Joffrey retreats to his cabin as soon as he gets on the ship, and leaves only when strictly necessary—like when Tyrion deprives him of having his meal sent to him, in order to force him out.

It's only when they get near Ironman's Bay that he opens his mouth to speak more than the usual greetings. He's standing on the pier, gazing over the ocean, and Tyrion approaches him. "I'm not meant to go back to Casterly Rock, am I?", he asks without preamble.

Tyrion frowns; has he heard something? "What makes you think that?"

"Grandfather has no trouble showing his distaste for me. He never has; not even when I was thought to be the legitimate heir to the Iron Throne. Now that Uncl—Father has asked for soldiers at the Wall… Well, Myrcella told me she overheard you talking to Grandfather."

_And you and Myrcella talk now?_ The two siblings never had a good relationship, although things might have changed with their shared downfall. "Jaime mentioned a new type of service at the Wall", he replies, opting for a more neutral response. "One that isn't for life."

"I doubt this is what you and Grandafther meant", Joffrey retorts. "I know I'm not wanted as heir to the Rock. I'm not stupid. Joining… Father at the Wall is the best way to get rid of me."

"I don't want you doing anything you don't want to", Tyrion says. "I won't force you to do it. You should be free to pursue your own ambitions."

Joffrey turns his body fully to him. "But I am _not_ ", he spats, "because I was conceived in the wrong bed, by the wrong man, who is now wasting himself at the Wall, speaking of children's scary tales as if they are truth! All I've wanted was to follow my father's steps, but not _this father_. I wanted to be king, to hold power in my hands and have no one questioning my worth and word. Now I'm fated to fall into dishonor because of _other people's_ foolishness!"

Part of him wants to defend Jaime, but… Joffrey is not _wrong_ , is he? He _was_ supposed to be King Robert's son. The heir to the crown. He continues, "All my life, I resented having gotten Mother's bending. It's the only thing I envied about F—the King's bastards. They could earthbend like him, while I was stuck with a mere specialty. Now… it's _worse_. Whenever I metalbend, I'm reminded of _why_ I could never be a Soil. I'm a Stone, on both sides, and I can never be who I want to be because _I was born wrong_!"

Tyrion sighs. "It's not the end of the world, Joff", he says, as gently as he can. "Okay, you'll never be king. But you know what I wanted to be when I was a small child, not fully aware of what being a dwarf meant?" His nephew shakes his head. "I dreamed of being a _knight_. I wanted to be as skilled as my brother—your father. Imagine my reaction when I realized how silly and impossible that dream was."

He looks at the boy's face, waiting for a comment. When none comes, he goes on, "After that, it soon became obvious that I could never follow his steps. Not only am I a dwarf, time made it clear that I'd never bend. I was a failure in my family's eyes and my own.

"You know who never saw me as a disappointment? _Jaime_. Yes, your father, whether you like it or not. I may be biased, but I honestly think you got the better end of the deal with that revelation. I'd take Jaime as a father over King Robert any day. You may not see it now, and you may never see it properly, now that both of your parents are away, but I hope you will, and that you grow to want to follow your real father's steps."

Joffrey frowns. "By doing what? Joining the Kingsguard? Murdering a king? Fucking Myrcella?"

"Of course _not_ ", he replies, rolling his eyes. "Jaime did a lot more than this. You can be a knight, you know. A master metalbender. People may forget those things thanks to his… kingslaying, but your father is the most skilled swordsman in the realm, and while he lost his master title, his skills did not go away. He was knighted by Ser Arthur Dayne due to his role in defeating one of the most dangerous criminals of King Aerys' reign.

"You talk of him fucking his own sister, but you don't talk of how much he loves his family. He fucked her for a _reason_. Not merely lust. He is one of the _very few_ people who never looked down on me, something not even your mother can say of herself. He made a lot of mistakes, yes, but so has the man you thought to be your father.

"King Robert started a war to get his betrothed back, a woman he only met once. Do you know why your mother refused to bear his children? Jaime told me once, and another time she even confirmed it; they never hid their affair from me. It was because, on their wedding night, Robert said Lyanna Stark's name instead of your mother's. He has bastards spread all over the realm, some older than the rebellion. Meanwhile, your true father never laid with a single woman aside from Cersei. So tell me, nephew, who do you want to be? Joffrey Soil, son of a man who never got anything he wanted and condemned himself to a life of misery, or Joffrey Stone, son of a man who did all he could for those he loved?"

Joffrey stares at him with wide eyes. _Well, I said quite a lot._ Not that there is anything untrue in his words. "You'll always be a bastard in the realm's eyes, even if you get legitimized one day", he adds, "so let me give you a final counsel. Never forget what you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness. Armor yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you."

With that said, he walks away, leaving his nephew to ponder everything he heard.

* * *

He is awakened in the middle of night by screams. It takes a few moments to notice the ship shaking violently. _We're under attack! But by whom?_

Good thing he decided to sleep clothed while on the ship; he climbs out of his bed and goes out of his cabin as fast as he can. It's a moonless night, so it's hard to make out what exactly is happening, but cannon balls are flying in their direction. He feels more than sees them hitting the ship. He hears Addam shouting orders along with another man, whose voice reminds him of Lord Farman.

It all goes in a blur. He runs to find cover, following other men's steps, hearing them shout that one of the attacker's ships is getting closer and closer. A cannon ball falls at his side, and he is thrown forward. A pair of strong arms hold him before he can fly out of the ship—Clegane. "Hold tight, Imp", he orders as he lifts him up.

The ship is shaken once again, a bit more violently this time. From his position, he sees people jumping inside and engaging in combat. _Too many of them_ , he notices. _What's going on? Who are they?_ In this darkness, he can't tell.

The Hound runs away from the fight, likely to protect Tyrion, but he is stopped by a tall man. "Not so fast", he exclaims, drawing his sword.

"Jump and run", Clegane hisses as he draws his own sword. Naturally, Tyrion obeys and lets himself fall from the man's shoulders. Thankfully, the tall man is distracted by the fight and doesn't run after him. However, another man finds him. "Well, well, well", he says, spitting on his hair. _Typical_. "If it isn't the Lion Imp."

His accent gives his origin away. Ironborn. _Should I be surprised?_ He almost wants to ask who he is, but then a sword nearly cuts his nose off, and he has to roll away to avoid a hit.

It goes like this for a good amount of time. The man tries to strike, but Tyrion's acrobatic experiences saves his own skin… until he finds himself cornered. "Let's get over with this show", the man slurs, and his sword shines in the night. He charges violently and—

And it doesn't hit him, but the ground instead.

"Uncle, run!", he hears Joffrey shout. "I'll hold him down!"

"No, I don't think so", the other man replies, and Tyrion has only time to roll himself out before both men fall on the ground, throwing punches at each other. Then the man manages to get both of his hands on Joff's throat.

Tyrion can't move, only watch as his nephew tries to free himself. Then, the boy extends his arm to the side, and one of the swords _flies_ in his direction. Grabbing it, Joffrey seemingly uses all his strength to plunge it into the man's head.

It's a blink-and-you-miss moment: the man falls on Joffrey, his hands falling on the floor. With a big effort, his nephew pushes the body out and stands up, still holding the sword. He nods at him. "C'mon, uncle, let's g—"

Something shines from Joffrey's stomach as he stops talking. Tyrion blinks; it's a _sword_. It vanishes quickly, and the boy falls on his knees. Whoever hit him runs away. Tyrion runs to catch Joffrey as he falls forward. "Hold on, Joff", he says. "Let's go to the cabin for you to rest."

"There is no rest", he manages to say, although it's clearly painful for him to talk. "The ship will sink, uncle. Save… yourself."

"No, no, no, you're coming with me."

"Too late…" Is he _smiling_? It's hard to tell, but it seems that he is. "Thanks. For… the pep talk. I… think I did good, didn't I?"

"You did great, Joff", he says sincerely. "Your father will be proud."

He doesn't answer. It really is too late.

The ship shakes violently, and this time he _is_ thrown out.

* * *

By dawn, the few survivors all gather on the beach. Tyrion can't really believe he's among those, especially when Joffrey _isn't_ , but… well.

Lord Farman is the one who makes the little speech in honor of the fallen; he's too dizzy to think of anything good. There are no bodies to retrieve, for they are all lost to the sea.

It is only late in the morning that they find out where they are. "Seagard", Addam tells him. "I told some locals of what happened and who we are. Lord Mallister is coming here to talk to us." He sighs. "We need to decide what to do next. Do we go back to Lannisport, or do we finish our journey?"

"I don't know", he replies sincerely. "Not right now, at least. Let's speak to Lord Mallister. Whatever our decision is, though, I don't think we should return to the sea for the next few days."

Addam nods. Tyrion looks around to see who remained. The Hound is standing, looking a bit injured. Lord Farman's grandson Allan is there as well, along with three other crew members. _It was supposed to be a peaceful voyage_ , he thinks. _How come only seven of us are alive? We weren't even halfway through the journey. What happened?_

Lord Jason Mallister arrives within the hour. "Tyrion Lannister", he greets with a nod. "I've heard of what happened. My sincere condolences."

"Thank you, my lord", he replies politely. "My companions and I are in dire need of food and shelter, at least for a night. If you'd be so kind…"

"Of course." He turns to some men who are behind him. "Please take them to the keep."

Thankfully, he is placed inside a small carriage along with Addam and Allan; he doesn't have to walk or ride all the way. He's still a bit dizzy, though it's getting better. He can _think_ properly now.

_We were obviously attacked by Ironborn,_ he ponders. _There were at least four ships involved, if not more. If this was the eastern coast, I'd bet on pirates, but the ironborn themselves have pirate-like customs, so those attacks were likely led by one of their Houses. But which of them?_

"Did any of you see the ships' flags?", he asks his two companions. Both of them shake their heads.

_Many ironborn houses have black flags. Greyjoys and Harlaws, for starters. Then again, it was so dark it could have been the red of House Goodbrother and no one would have noticed. Perhaps Lord Mallister knows something._

He only gets the opportunity to talk to him after taking a bath, getting new clothes (which suspiciously look like they belong to a child, but he shouldn't expect people to have spare clothes tailored for _dwarves_ ) and eating lunch. His body begs for proper rest, but his mind screams for answers.

"Lord Jason", he calls the man. "I suppose you were informed of what happened."

He nods. "I've been told several ships attacked yours in the dark of the night. No one could see any banners from the beach, though. We didn't know the ship attacked belonged to the Lannisters… not that it would have made much of a difference, if the reports I received are true. Everything happened too fast."

"It did, indeed", he agrees. "None of us could make out any banners either. If any member of my crew recognized an attacker, they died before they could warn us survivors. However, I was hoping you could give me a clue. Is this the first time your vicinity was attacked this way?"

Mallister sighs. "It is the first attack _here_ , my lord, but not the first we've heard of in recent times. There are reports of raids up north, though nothing accurate enough to know what is going on. What we do know is that the western coast hasn't been the safest as of late. We are choosing to sail through the rivers, and if you are set on resuming your journey, wherever your destination is, I recommend you do the same."

He nods. "We were heading to the Wall", he explains. "We've received… news from my brother, and we wanted to see for ourselves. Our planned itinerary was to go to Bear Island and take the safest route to Shadow Tower."

A short silence follows. "I have kin in the Shadow Tower", Jason muses. "My uncle, Ser Denys. I think he's its commander. I've got to warn you, though, if you are looking for your brother… I'm not sure you'll have any luck there, my lord. Rumour has it that Ser Jaime is not there."

He frowns. "I'm sorry, what?"

The other man sighs. "Those are all _rumours_ , of course, but I doubt they are _completely_ made up. Some common folk claim… the Avatar came back. There are tales of people spotting them near the Neck and in the Vale. Rumours differ on their identity—it's what's to be expected—but some of them claim the _Kingslayer_ is the Avatar reborn."

Tyrion blinks. Once. Twice. Five times.

And then he _guffaws_.

"I'm… sorry, my lord", he says between laughs, "but people believe _my brother_ to be the _Avatar reborn_? How in the world?"

Mallister clearly doesn't know whether to laugh along or to sigh. "I know it sounds absurd", he replies. "However, there are consistent reports of people catching sight of your brother on the Kingsroad, and those reports stop near the Vale. The most believable ones portray him as a recruiter for the Night's Watch; I doubt he'd let himself be so easily seen if he was a deserter anyway. Regardless of these mad tales of Avatar reborn, I think it's safe to say your brother is _not_ at the Wall."

_Well, that changes things._ Tyrion had seriously considered finishing their journey using the Kingsroad, just like he did on the royal visit to Winterfell, but if Jaime is not there, is it worth it?

_But we weren't going merely to see my brother_ , he thinks. _We were going to talk to him_ and _the Night's Watch about the threat of the Others. And these tales of Avatar reborn… Why link them to Jaime? Perhaps I'll find answers in the Wall, even if I won't find_ him.

Later that night, he discusses his findings with his other six companions. "You are free to return home", he says at the end. "Lord Mallister has agreed to provide transportation for us, wherever we decide to go. However, I'd like to have at least one of you coming with me to the Wall."

"Count me in", Addam offers without hesitation. "Jaime may not be there, but fuck, this story is getting way too good."

"I'm already here", Clegane says, shrugging. "Going fucking north sounds better than back to that blasted Rock." _Honestly, Clegane, do you like being at any place at all?_

The other four choose to go back home, and he doesn't fault them. He goes to the rookery and writes a letter to his father about what happened and his decision to proceed with his trip.

* * *

Thankfully, the journey from Seagard to the Wall is quick and uneventful. His memory of the Kingsroad is still fresh, so he has no trouble finding inns for them to stay. As they go further north, stories of the Avatar run wilder. A few recognize him and ask about Jaime.

"Is it true that your brother has been hiding his true powers since he joined the Kingsguard?"

"Is it true that he became the Kingslayer because Aerys wanted to kill the Avatar?"

"Is it true that he was sent to the Wall because King Robert found out his true identity and fears him?"

"Did he fuck his sister to ensure the blood of the Avatar won't get tainted?"

"Are his children Avatars in the making?"

Honestly, _what the fuck_. There are _songs_ about the Kingslayer Avatar, damn it.

(At least the three of them can have a good laugh over it. Now he _really_ wishes he could see Jaime again, if only to ask what in seven hells he has done to earn such a peculiar fame.)

Though people don't mention _only_ Jaime as the potential Avatar. Some people claim they are a Stark, for _whatever reason_ , and some claim it's a girl; of course, most prefer the versions in which his brother is the all-powerful bender. Regardless, there are enough mad tales of impossible feats for him to realize people _do_ believe the Avatar is back. But _why_? What could have possibly triggered these rumours?

A few days after the last inn, they stop in Winterfell. "My lady", he says, greeting Lady Catelyn. "If it's not much trouble, my friends and I would like to rest for the night."

She smiles politely at him. "Of course. I did not expect to see you again so soon, Lord Tyrion. What brings you here?"

He gives her a summary of recent events. She gives him her condolences for Joffrey's death, but tenses up at the mention of the rumours about the Avatar. _There is something here_ , he realizes. _Maybe the rumours are not without some truth. What does she know?_

He decides to ask, instead, "Do you have news of Jaime, my lady?"

"He is wandering around the realm as a recruiter, my lord. From what I've gathered, Lord Commander Mormont believed his former status would help convince nobles to send aid. You have an idea of what is at stake, I gather."

He sighs. "I know what he told us by letter. He claims he fought a wight, and that the Others are on the verge of returning. What do you know about this, Lady Catelyn?"

She guides him to the godswood. "Ser Jaime speaks the truth", she says. "There have been even more reports of similar encounters, by black brothers and wildlings alike. The Night's Watch has made an alliance with the Free Folk… well, you'll see on your way there. A good portion of the wildlings has settled on the Gift. They provide aid in exchange for safety."

"And what about the rumours regarding the Avatar? I fail to see how my brother is connected to those."

She tenses up again. "I think", she replies, slowly, "that you should ask Lord Mormont about it. I cannot give you any answers."

_Not because you don't have them_ , he muses silently, _but because you keep them a secret. But pray tell, my lady, what difference does it make to have you telling me rather than the Lord Commander?_

* * *

He fails to draw any more information from Lady Catelyn, and her children—or rather, just Robb, for Rickon is too young and Bran is 'recovering, but unavailable'—keep their mouths equally shut. He leaves Winterfell with more questions than answers, and sharing them with Addam and the Hound does not help.

It's not long before they reach the Gift—and the wildling village. They are greeted by Mance Rayder, infamously known as King-beyond-the-Wall (even if he no longer lives _beyond_ the Wall). "Are you related to Jaime Lannister?", is the first thing he asks after Tyrion introduces himself.

"He's my brother", he replies easily. "I came in part to see him, though I've already been told he's not here anymore."

"No, he's not", he says, nodding. "Your brother is a good friend of ours. Feel free to eat with us before going to that damn Wall."

Hours later, he finds himself laughing along the wildlings, sharing stories and even flirting with some women. From a distance, he catches sight of Addam kissing a blonde-haired woman who had greeted them before holding an ice spear.

After some drinks, he and Rayder talk about the Others and the Avatar. About the former, there is nothing the supposed king tells that Lady Catelyn hasn't already. However… "The rumours of the Avatar are true", he says. "If this is what you are going to the Wall for, here is your answer. _But_ none of us are to disclose their identity. Not anyone here, not anyone of the Night's Watch. For their own safety, and ours. What I _can_ tell you… well, you must already know it's _not_ your brother, as entertaining as it would be."

He takes a drink. "But he _knows_ who the Avatar is, right?"

"Definitely. They are good friends. Your brother will have the laugh of the year if he ever hears people are calling _him_ the Avatar reborn." A pause. "If you want any news of him… He's fine. He's content. He found purpose. It's something rather easy to notice in him whenever he comes here."

"That's… good to know."

They drink some more and talk some more. He finds out nobody north of Winterfell calls Jaime Kingslayer—no, his new title is _Ser Sisterfucker_ , and if their sister is ever mentioned, it's as _Queen Brotherfucker_. He decides to _not_ tell his father about this particular tale, but he tells _Addam_ about it as soon as he disentangles himself from the blonde wildling—whose name, apparently, is Val, and is Mance's good sister (not that the wildlings seem to care much about marriage to use these terms). They have quite a laugh over it.

They do go to the Wall in the end, if only to gather more information on the new recruitment regime. Lord Mormont confirms everything Lady Catelyn and Mance Rayder said, and also refuses to disclose the Avatar's identity. The news is that they have _imprisoned_ a wight, which they use to show new recruiters what exactly they will fight against. Naturally, Mormont leads him, Addam and Clegane to see it.

_Fuck_.

Even though the… creature is safely locked in a cell, Tyrion's first instinct is to _run_. It looks human, alright, but it clearly used to be a rotten corpse, and its blue eyes are _uncanny_ , to say the _least_. It launches at the cell bars, trying to get them, and it keeps screeching until long after they leave. "Nobody sleeps in the lower levels anymore", Mormont comments. "Not after many complaints that they can hear the wight as if it was in the next room."

Not that Tyrion even _doubted_ Jaime's claims, but _seeing_ a wight in person… changes perspective. No wonder his brother sounded so worried in his letters. _And there are, supposedly, hundreds of those out there. Perhaps thousands._

"We've tried to track them down, but all searching parties end up not returning", the Lord Commander says. "Not in the same number they left, at least. We've lost at least forty brothers, and six of them have come back here as wights. It gets harder each day."

"Do you have any plan of action?", he asks, because there _must_ be, right?

"Nothing _concrete_ ", the old man admits. "We don't have enough information aside from vague legends of the Long Night and the War for the Dawn. We have people… looking for additional information, but it's a slow progress.

"We know those things can be killed by dragonglass—which is obsidian—, dragonsteel—which is another word for _Valyrian steel_ —and fire. We've been trading with the Skagosi to get dragonglass to craft weapons, and our _dream_ is to have an answer from Dragonstone, but we've got nothing on that front. As for dragonsteel… our Avatar is carrying a Valyrian steel sword, and one of our old brothers has a dagger made of it, but… well, it _is_ a rare material.

"Without knowing _how_ the first Long Night ended, we have no real way of knowing how to end the threat for good. All we know is how to kill wights, and I'm afraid it isn't enough."

He can _feel_ the Mormont's despair upon sharing their lack of information and concrete plans. He's beginning to feel the same.

"I'll speak to my father", he says with determination. "We'll send all the aid we can. You can count on the West. Sadly, the recent strain on our reputation will make it harder for us to spread word outside our region."

"I understand", he replies. "We'll take what we can get."

On the following morning, Clegane announces he'll stay. "I'll be more useful here than guarding children", he explains, and Tyrion can't help but agree. Addam's face is the most serious he's seen since the attack as he promises House Marbrand will aid the cause in whatever way they can.

Soon, the two of them head for Eastwatch. "Take a ship to either Dragonstone or King's Landing", Yarwyck—the First Builder, born in the Westerlands—explains. "Then take the roads to Casterly Rock. It's a longer way across the mainland, but safer than going to Storm's End."

He is plagued by nightmares of Joffrey the entire voyage. _He wanted to be a hero_ , _and died like one_. It's not a fate he ever imagined for the spoiled child he's known for years, but… well, he'd rather have his nephew alive, but he does believe Jaime _will_ be proud, if ever hears the tale. It's the best he can hope for, now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to last even longer and be even more descriptive, but I cut some parts. Thanks to the pace of the story, I couldn't divide this chapter in two.   
> The end of Tyrion's speech to Joffrey is the advice he gives Jon at the beginning of 'A game of thrones'.  
> Jason Mallister is the lord of Seagard in canon, and his uncle is Commander of Shadow Tower. Lord (Sebaston) Farman is a canon character as well; he has a sister, who has several unnamed children. I gave him a grandson due to lack of information on whether he ever married or had offspring; given his sister has at least a dozen children, I think it's safe to say he's old enough to be a grandfather.  
> Our next chapter will feature a new character, one that has been mentioned a couple times. We'll get some worldbuilding, especially regarding changes in canon, and some more action. See you soon!


	21. Brienne I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get a glimpse of Brienne's life as it takes quite some turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who came for Jaime/Brienne and were wondering where the hell she was, HERE SHE IS!  
> Brienne is one of the characters whose life was greatly changed in this setting; this chapter shows these changes, so pay attention!

"You know", Galladon begins, "you'll probably be able to get a master title in a couple of years, if you keep up the hard work. Maybe even before that."

He's smiling, so she smiles back, even though she can't bring herself to believe his words. No matter how skilled she gets, she doubts any maester will ever bother to give her a chance in a master trial. "And what, you'll show me around as the best metalbender of the stormlands?"

"No, I'll show you around as the best metalbender in _Westeros_."

She rolls her eyes at her brother. "I doubt I'll be able to surpass the Kingslayer." _And even if I miraculously do, how would I prove it? He's to spend the rest of his days on the Wall anyway._

Her brother seems to think the same, although the conclusion is a bit different. "Ser Jaime Lannister no longer counts, now that he's wasting away on the Wall."

She wants to argue that the Night's Watch is an honorable order, but decides to not say it, for it would mean she was defending the Kingslayer. Instead, she goes to the armory to take her armor and sword off.

As she does, she takes a look at the shield hanging on the higher level of the wall—not high enough that she can't touch it, obviously. The green is beginning to fade—her father has talked of getting it repaired sooner rather than later—but the shooting star above the tree is still visible, and so is the sunset in the background.

 _It was thanks to Ser Duncan that the Tarth metalbending heritage kept going_ , her brother said once, when she was sixteen and told him that her former septa blamed her great-grandfather for her looks. _We must be proud of our ancestry, not ashamed. Septa Roelle knows nothing._ On that same day, Father sent her away, and she's been without a septa ever since.

Of course, by then she was all too aware of how… unpleasant she is to the eye. Her father and her brother insist she's beautiful, but the mirror doesn't lie. The looks others give her don't lie either. _Ronnet Connington_ didn't lie when he threw a rose at her feet, saying it was all she'd have from him.

 _He'd rather marry a bastard girl from the Vale than marry a metalbender, all because I'm ugly._ Galladon always says it's _his_ loss, not hers; it doesn't have the effect he obviously intends—make her feel better—but she agrees all the same. She'd rather be alone forever than waste her life with a man who can't even respect her.

By the time she goes back inside the castle, supper is already being served. "We'll wait for you to take your bath", her brother exclaims, making his way to the table. Ever since the accident that nearly took his life, his steps are slow, and he needs a cane to walk. _Better than dead_ , she thinks, gulping at the mere thought of living without her older brother.

Her bath is quick; she doesn't want them to wait so long that the food cools down. And indeed they waited for her; her brother and father are chatting when she gets in the dinner hall, not even touching their food.

"Brienne", her father greets her with a soft smile. In the years following her mother's and sisters' deaths, his smiles have been few in between, though lately he seems to have found the strength to smile more. "I was just telling Gal about the letter I received from Lord Renly."

She blinks and makes an effort not to blush. Renly Baratheon has been their overlord since his brother Robert took the throne and gave Dragonstone to his other brother Stannis. A few years ago, when he turned sixteen, he visited Tarth, and his kindness made her fall for him instantly. She still fantasized that, one day, he'd ask for her hand.

 _As if that will ever happen_ , an inside voice tells her. _He has nothing to gain marrying you. Your looks would ruin his heirs', your metalbending would mess up with his earthbending, and Tarth is of little importance for someone who holds Storm's End. Only love could persuade him, and how could he love you?_

Sometimes, that voice sounds like Septa Roelle's. Or Ronnet's. She tries to shut it down, even though it's telling nothing but the truth. Besides, if the rumours about the young Baratheon are true, no good looks can make him fancy her.

"What does the letter say?", she asks, because clearly, her father is willing to share its contents with her—despite her not being his heir.

Lord Selwyn begins serving himself while he answers. "It's a rather long one. He explains a certain… situation in the riverlands in which the stormlands got involved. Recently, the Mountain has wedded the heir to Harrenhal, Lady Jonquil Whent. However, her mother, Lady Shella, has sent him a plea of help, which implies that said wedding was not consensual on the bride's part."

She shivers at the notion, and her brother makes a disgusted face. "Considering we're talking about the _Mountain_ , I'm not even surprised. How did this happen anyway? I thought he lived in King's Landing."

"I suppose this hasn't been the case ever since House Lannister was essentially kicked out of the capital", her father replies with a shrug. "Back to the story… He found her message odd, given he is not Harrenhal's overlord, but later he found she sent the same letter to Riverrun as well. Anyway, at the time Lord Beric Dondarrion offered to go there and talk to the Mountain—"

She and Gallandon snort. "One does not simply _talk_ to the Mountain", her brother says.

Selwyn nods. "You're right, son. The encounter did not go well. No one knows what happened, since nobody went back to Lord Renly, but Lord Dondarrion has been consistently reported as dead ever since. Now Lord Renly wants to send a small party consisting of stormlanders, riverlanders and westerlanders. He asked if we could send one person to go."

She tilts her head. "Westerlanders?"

"Well, House Clegane answers to House Lannister. I suppose Renly hopes to have the Mountain's overlord knock some sense into his thick head."

That earns a chuckle from both siblings. Then, after a while, she says, "I can go."

Her father stops eating to turn to her. " _What_?"

She shrugs. "You said he wants to send a party with people from three kingdoms. I can represent Tarth. As Gal and Ser Goodwin can tell you, I'm fairly good with my bending and a sword."

"That doesn't mean I'm willing to put you in harm's way", he replies sternly."

"I'll hardly be in harm's way, Father. Clegane may be frightening, but he is only one man. What can he do when facing a small garrison of warriors and lords?"

"She has a point", her brother intervenes. "Besides, sending Brie will show the other lords that we are not ashamed of having a warrior lady with us. You know how warrior women are regarded in this part of Westeros."

She sighs; his words ring truer than she'd wished. There are many places in Westeros where women are seen as equal to men, especially when they were benders. Dornish inheritance rules favored birth order regardless of gender, and most tales of female fighters were from there; the Iron Islands were famous for their warrior benders, men and women alike; in the North, female benders usually became healers, but they were held in high regard just the same.

She's heard little of the Vale airbenders, since they usually stick to a pacifist lifestyle, but she doubted women faced the same troubles as they did in the West, the stormlands, the crownlands and the Reach—granted, all earthbending regions where women usually _don't_ bend, but still. She's heard enough of Cersei Lannister, the former queen, to know she is far from being the only female bender to be dimished for her sex.

Her father frowns, clearly not fond of the idea, but he eventually concedes. "Gal's right, as always. You'll be a fine Evenstar someday, my son. Alright, Brienne, we'll begin preparations tomorrow."

She smiles and thanks him. Finally, an opportunity to prove herself to the world.

* * *

According to Lord Renly, all lords and soldiers—she doesn't really know which category she fits—are to group in Duskendale, so she takes a ship straight there. Unfortunately, she can't train her swordplay or her archery on the trip, but at least she can practice her bending with the other travelers.

There are very few metalbenders outside the West; House Tarth is the only metalbending noble family in the stormlands, for example. It does not surprise her when she finds the few benders on the ship were earthbenders, and it doesn't stop her from training either.

There are some waterbenders too, which doesn't surprise her either. As all islands, Tarth attracts waterbender from all over Westeros—and some from Essos too—fighters and healers alike. It was thanks to one of the latter that Galladon didn't die in his accident. They were young kids—not small, for neither of them were ever _small_ —when they sneaked out of the castle to cliff dive. She reached the water without trouble, but her brother miscalculated his jump and fell on the rocks.

The memory still makes her shudder. She screamed for help while trying to take him out of the sea. Luckily, some healers were practicing by the shore; they bent the ocean to carry them to the sand faster, and gathered around Galladon to bend the water away from his lungs and heal his injuries. For moons, they thought he'd never walk again, but eventually he healed enough for the task—although with difficulty. It didn't affect his bending, although he doesn't train as much; he tires more easily, and it's troublesome to bend while holding a cane. He never complains, though, at least not to her face. Her brother always carried an optimistic energy.

The journey to Duskendale is short and thankfully calm. She arrives after sunset and goes straight to Dun Fort, where Lord Renfred Rykker awaits. "Welcome, Lady Brienne", he greets her politely, though he does not smile. "Please follow Leia to your assigned chambers. You'll assemble with Ser Cortnay Penrose in the morning. He will represent Lord Renly on this mission."

"Thank you, Lord Rykker", she says, bowing—she stopped trying to curtsey long ago, after her former septa gave up teaching her to do it properly. His clear surprise at her gesture certainly masks any disappointment her face may show at not being able to see Renly.

In her chambers, she unpacks her bow, her set of arrows, her morningstar and her sword, wondering which one(s) should she take to Harrenhal. She'd gone over that matter with Galladon on the night before her departure; he advise to bring both sword and morningstar, since she could bend both weapons for a range adjustment. It doesn't feel right to get parted from her bow, though; it was the first weapon she was trained in, as it is tradition in Tarth.

She sleeps soundly, likely thanks to the tiredness of her journey, and rises with the sun as if she was a firebender. After dressing up, she leaves her room for breakfast. Some men are already there, but none greets her while she eats. Nothing she's not already used to.

After a while, a bald man with a red beard introduces himself as Ser Cortnay. He briefly explains that Lord Renly's duties refrained him from coming and asks each one of them to introduce themselves so he can know which houses sent aid.

The first to speak is Ser Rolland Storm, bastard of the late Lord Caron. She remembers being once betrothed to one of his (trueborn) sons; it was the only betrothal which wasn't broken by Brienne herself, but by the gods—the poor boy was taken away by the same disease that took his parents. After him, Allard Seaworth—son of Ser Davos, a fogbender and former smuggle, risen to nobility after Robert's Rebellion—introduces himself, and then it's her turn.

A few men grimace at her direction, but Penrose just thanks her and her father. Other two stormlanders—Richard of House Rogers and Ser Brus of House Buckler—introduce themselves, followed by four riverlanders—one of the many Walder Freys (she misses his nickname), Ser Marq of House Piper, Ser Kirth of House Vance and Ser Allaric of House Cox. No westerlanders are present, much to their dismay.

"I've heard they were attacked by ironborn recently", Ser Marq says. "Word has come from Seagard that Joffrey Stone was killed in the attack. They may be lacking representatives to send, or time to gather them."

"It may be the case", Penrose concedes. "Hopefully Lord Renly will receive some explanation." He doesn't seem convinced, however. Not that she blames him, with Tywin Lannister's reputation. _He might as well be behind the Mountain's actions._

The ten of them discuss strategy and organize their journey. All are confident there won't be much of a fight, although they do gather in the yard so each of them can show off their abilities.

She _is_ complimented on her martial and bending skills, much to her delight—even though most praises are given begrudgingly. "Who has trained you?", Ser Kirth, one of the few whose praise sounded genuine, asks.

"My father and Evenfall's master-at-arms, Ser", she replies cordially.

"Your abilities are quite impressive, my lady. Are you to inherit Evenfall?"

"No, that is my brother Galladon. I understand your question, though. He suffered an accident when we were children, one that nearly took his life. Ever since then, he doesn't practice fighting anymore, and I've sort of taken his place in this regard."

He nods. "I see. I suppose he still bends, though, since you are not heir."

"He does. His chi was not affected."

"Good", he hums. "It must be terrible to lose your bending. I've heard one of Lord Stark's sons lost his bending after falling. It is said the Kingslayer pushed him, but _this_ part of the story varies." He shakes his head. "Well, we should all rest for our departure tomorrow. The trip to Harrenhal is not always pleasant, from what I know. It's often plagued by bandits." He turns to her. "I am certain you can defend yourself, my lady, but rest assured, I'll do whatever I can to prevent harm from coming to you. Gods know women are bandits' favorite targets."

She gives him a small smile. "I'm grateful for your concern", she replies sincerely. "It's good to know I can count on someone for help if needed. I do hope it won't be necessary, though."

"Don't we all", he replies, and they part ways.

* * *

Their first days on the road are not all that bad. They take the Duskendale road to Maidenpool; while bandits are indeed present, as Ser Kirth predicted, they are not a bother to the group. Brienne proves to be just as capable to defend herself as the men—and even better than a few, like Walder Frey—and she gets along just fine with most of her companions.

Ser Penrose arranges for them to stay the night at Lord Mooton's castle. They are greeted by his daughter Eleanor, who seems awed by her presence. "Can you show me your skills? I've never seen anyone metalbending before."

House Mooton has mixed bending heritage—earth and airbending, thanks to the proximity to the Vale. Lady Eleanor herself is an airbender, so when she takes Brienne to the yard, she challenges her by running from her arrows using airballs. Then she sits and pays attention as Brienne shows her how to bend the sword and the morningstar.

At supper, the little lady insists on sitting with her, a fact that softens her like seldom happens. How many girls and women have taken delight in being near her before? If Brienne thinks long enough about it, women often treat her worse than men for her looks.

She engages in pleasant conversation until a song draws her attention. "Kingslayer Avatar?", she wonders out loud.

"Oh, you haven't heard?", Lady Eleanor replies. "It's _the_ rumour all over the town. I'm not sure if it comes from the riverlands or from the Vale, but the point is, there are many stories that claim the Avatar is back, and some claim it's Ser Jaime Lannister."

It's probably the oddest thing she's ever heard, so she and the lady spend the rest of the night discussing the rumours. The song lyrics are also downright madness—the Kingslayer laid with his twin to ensure his children would be the perfect little Avatars? And now he's in the Wall to 'save us from the Long Winter and bring Eternal Summer'? Singers are known for creativity, but even so it's too fantastical for her to give it any credit.

She bids Lady Eleanor goodbye in the morning, when she leaves with the other men. The Frey boy whistles _The Kingslayer Avatar_ for two whole hours, until Rogers smacks him on the head.

The days go by swiftly. There are bandits, but not as many as they expected, and the journey is relatively calm. However, when they are a day away from Harrenhal, she wakes in the middle of the night by the sound of swords clashing.

She quickly shoves her weapons bag—containing her bow, her arrows and her morningstar—inside a hole in the tree she picked to sleep nearby. Then, she grabs her sword and stands up to see what's happening.

Her companions are fighting a group of men who, under the moonlight, look too well-fed to be bandits. _What is going on?_ However, she has little time to think as one of the men notices her and launches himself at her.

Steel clashes against steel as she defends herself, looking for weak spots on his armour to stick her sword in. Sadly, the moonlight is not enough for that, and she has to rely purely on her swordsmanship skills. Around her, many of her companions are knocked out, and other men approach her. It doesn't take long before she feels a pang on her head, followed by darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhangeeeeeeer  
> It'll take a while before we go back to Brienne, but don't worry, she'll live xD (we have to get to Braime someday huh)  
> I should say, this Clegane-Whent subplot serves essentially to throw the right character at the right places at the right times. The plot itself won't be relevant on the long run, so don't trouble yourself tooooo much with it.  
> As for the characters mentioned: all of them have either appeared or been mentioned in the books, except for Richard Rogers and Allaric Cox. Their houses exist, but none of its current members are named.  
> (Also, am I having too much fun making the whole realm think Jaime is the Avatar? Maybe! Do I care? No!)  
> \---  
> Next chapter is one of the MOST important for the story, especially this first part. It is as plot-relevant as, say, Jaime and Jon fighting the wight. I'm so excited for the twist that I'm having trouble writing the part that comes before it hahaha


	22. Cersei II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei reflects on everything that brought her to this moment in her life. Meanwhile, Drogo falls ill, and Daenerys makes a dangerous deal to get him healed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't want to spoil things, but I advise you to pay attention to the moments where Cersei recalls Maggy's prophecy. It is NOT the same from canon, because whatever Cersei's canon end is, it won't be repeated here.  
> Like I said in previous notes, this is a pivotal chapter for the plot, so enjoy it!

_"When will I wed the prince?"_

_"Never. You will wed the king."_

_"I will be queen, though?"_

_"Aye. Queen you shall be… until there comes another, younger and fairer, to take all that you've once held dear."_

She has wedded two kings now, and lost both—one for her own treason, another for her unwillingness to save him. One is surely to find another woman to sire heirs, while the other left this world without issue. Either way, she is no longer queen. The first part of the prophecy came true—twice. She can only hope the rest won't come to fruition as well.

_If Daenerys changes her mind about me, it won't._ She won't outlive her children if her good sister decides her inaction in face of Viserys' death is treasonous, punishable by death. So far, neither woman has brought up the subject, even months later, and even Ser Jorah is silent. _She grieves. I'd have grieved Jaime as well, had roles been switched._

Comparing Jaime and Viserys seems utterly _unjust_ , though. Viserys was nothing like her twin, and even Tyrion is better company. Her second husband reminded her too much of her first, and she grew resentful of both rather quickly—Robert due to his obsessive attachment to a dead woman, Viserys due to his unstable nature. How many times did she wish to impale them?

Robert is far away now, the two of them never to see each other again, while Viserys was killed by his own good brother, thanks to his own foolish actions. She didn't have to do anything; only stand by and watch as his skull melted and his screams stopped.

_But I did do something. I chose to save my good sister from harm instead of indulging my husband's whims._ She acted before thinking; the mere sight of the sword so dangerously close to Daenerys' abdomen scared her. _Is this what Jaime felt when he saw Bran Stark?_ (She likes to think she reacted better than her twin, though.)

There is also her most recent achievement, the one that earned her one of the finest horses of the _khalasar_. Her blood was pulsing all over when she and Daenerys approached the combustionbender—whose existence she had never heard of until that night, so it's a wonder her former husband knows enough about it to hire one—but in the end she managed to strike him from behind, thanks to the _khaleesi_ 's distraction methods.

Her actions settled her good status among the Dothraki, and no one has ever looked at her suspiciously ever since. As for Daenerys, she seemingly decided Cersei is her most trusted advisor and friend from that night on, much to her relief.

She's been slightly on edge ever since she pretended to have detected metallic poison on Viserys' drink, back when they first met. In truth, she'd been the one to put the liquid in the cup, when no one was looking—she always carries a wineskin of liquid steel, for emergencies—and then bent it away from the wine. It earned everyone's trust, but with time she sensed it made Viserys more and more paranoid. Now that someone had seemingly tried to poison him, he grew to believe there could be traitors everywhere. His death brought her relief, despite her fears that Daenerys or _khal_ Drogo would kick her out or leave her in Vaes Dothrak.

Nowadays she rides with more confidence. Not that she didn't show it before—she's a _Lannister_ , of course she behaves confidently—but now it's genuine, not just an act for others. There is nothing to fear anymore; she has secured her place here.

_It's really odd_ , she thinks, _that I've grown content with this kind of life._ Of course, she longs to go back home; it is why she married Viserys and why she's still with Daenerys—their goal to take the Iron Throne from Robert is her best way to go back to Westeros without being beheaded right away. However, as it became clear that said goal would take _time_ to be achieved, she worked her mind to accept this would be her life for some years.

It's not as bad as she had initially thought. She's not fond of spending all day outdoors, burning her skin under the sun and going to bed sore from horse riding, but it also reminds her of carefree days in Casterly Rock, back when her mother was still alive, and she and Jaime liked to sneak out to swim. The strong wind reminds her of lunch at the balconies of her birth home, and the heat reminds her of the early days of summer following the Rebellion.

Those are small things, ones she's always taken for granted in her quests to achieve her many life goals, but now she cherishes them. Living in the wild has been teaching her to appreciate those tiny details of daily life.

She finds herself thinking of Jaime every now and then. _He'd enjoy this even more_ , she muses. _Jaime has always distracted himself with nature, even when it was clear Father would punish him for it._ _He'd also appreciate Dothraki's views on sex; we'd take full advantage of it._ Nothing made her miss her twin more than when Viserys bedded her. The young Targaryen cared little for her pleasure and lasted only enough to spill his seed on her. After his death, she thanked the gods when her moonblood came; the last thing she wanted was to carry a child conceived out of gross, passionless nights. There was a _reason_ she drank moon tea after laying with Robert while cherishing her children with Jaime.

She shakes her head and focuses on the road ahead. It's dangerous to dwell on thoughts of her brother when she's so near the woman whose father he killed. Hopefully she'll never find out _who_ her former lover is. It is the one thing she still fears to be brought to light.

* * *

They are days away from the spot where they fought Combustion Man—the nickname Daenerys gave to her assassin—when _khal_ Drogo falls off his horse. Screams follow, for obvious reasons; she's long learned that, if a _khal_ can't keep himself on his horse, it means he can longer lead his _khalasar_. But _why_ did he fall?

Daenerys rushes to her husband's side and looks under his attire. Jorah kneels before her as Cersei dismounts, walking closer. "These are burn marks", she hears the Targaryen girl say. She turns to Drogo's bloodriders and asks, in Dothraki, if they saw him being attacked by the combustionbender.

"We need to seek treatment for him", she says. "How far are we from the nearest town?"

Rakharo answers, "There is a town of the Lamb Men less than a day's ride."

"Then that's where we'll go", she replies firmly. "He won't be able to heal himself here."

There is some discussion that she can't understand well—she's not nearly as good in Dothraki tongue as Daenerys and Ser Jorah—but it seems that the bloodriders concede, though not without insisting that Drogo is treated by their own healers first and foremost.

"Who are the Lamb Men?", she quietly asks Jorah as they resume their ride. Drogo is carried by _ko_ Jhaqo.

"The Lhazareen", he answers. "They are shepherds, peaceful people. Most are non benders, but benders can be found every now and then. Waterbender and firebender healers can be found in their towns; it's why Daenerys wants to go there."

She frowns. "Firebender healers?" She remembers the late Prince Rhaegar had studied healing arts, but she's never heard of firebending being _really_ used for it.

"The Targaryens rarely took interest in it", he explains, "but in Essos it's common. Its uses are not the same as waterbending healing, but it's effective. I think fire can be used to heal burn wounds as well as water."

She nods in gratitude and goes to reach Daenerys. As her _friend_ , it's her duty to comfort her.

* * *

Doreah finds a firebender healer in a temple. The woman, a black-haired fat lady, introduces herself as Mirri Maz Duur. "Forgive me for the mess", she says, waving around the damaged building. "Another _khalasar_ just raided us."

"We promise we come in peace", Daenerys assures her. "If you heal my husband, we'll pass by without causing any harm."

As the day went by, Drogo's state worsened. He's sleepy and groaning in pain when he is dragged inside the temple. The healer examines him and declares she can heal him in a couple days' time, if he stays in the building. Daenerys agrees, but asks to stay with him.

Cersei stays outside with the rest of the _khalasar_. She can hear the Dothraki voicing their distrust regarding Mirri Maz Duur, but she says nothing. She won't question the _khaleesi_ out loud, although something about the healer irks her.

"I've passed through the temple", she tells the Targaryen once, "and I saw… dark flames. Shadows of flames, actually. This isn't what I remember from Rhaegar's firebending."

"She told me dark flames are common in Essos", she replies. "The further east you go, the more often you find them. It's all about how you were trained. She even offered to teach me." Her shining eyes drive Cersei to silence. She won't say anything to shut her hopes down; what if this is just paranoia on her part?

A few days go by, however, and Daenerys' mood swings between being hopeful and desperate. "It seems he'll get better some days", she explains, "but, sometimes, he seems to get worse. I don't know what to expect, what to do. I thought it would be easy to fix."

One day, she comes to her with a fearful expression. "He's gotten worse", she tells her. "Mirri Maz Duur says a blood ritual will be needed, and I must be there for it."

"Then let us come with you", she asks, because her instincts tell her to be there. "You shouldn't be alone, and neither should he."

She nods, and all her closest companions—Cersei, Jorah, Jhogo, Aggo, Rakharo, Irri, Jhiqui and Doreah—come to the temple. Drogo groans in pain, but otherwise seems unaware of his surroundings. _Those were just burn marks_ , she remembers. _What could have possible worsened his condition? Can an infection do all this damage?_

The woman tells Daenerys to kneel before her husband. Although with difficulty—she's nearly six moons pregnant, after all—she does, and the woman begins the ritual.

Everyone turns to look at the _khal_ , but it isn't Drogo's groans that draw her attention. No, it's Duur's movements around him and Daenerys. _Something is wrong here_ , she realizes. The Lhazareen woman claims to be a firebender healer; when asked about her dark flames, she claimed it's common in this side of the world. At first, it was easy to believe her, but now that she has been allowed to properly watch her…

_Prince Rhaegar did not move like that_ , she remembers. _He rarely made circles; his bending moves were a lot more straightforward. But this is familiar…_ She lets out a gasp. _Jon Arryn! This was how Robert's former Hand moved!_

She steps ahead to speak. She won't let this woman fool them any longer; if she's lying about her bending, gods know what else she's hiding, or what else she has lied about. "This is no firebending", she shouts. Daenerys turns to her, eyes wide. "Her technique is of an _airbender_!"

The _khaleesi_ 's reaction is instantaneous. She turns her head to the pretender, fury in her expression. "My good sister would not lie to me. Speak the truth!"

She smiles internally at the display of trust; no one, save for her children, has ever shown it. Her thoughts, however, are sidetracked by Mirri Maz Duur's snort. "Aye, I am. Though not your ordinary airbender, as your _good sister_ can attest. I do not simply bend _air_. All shadows bend to my will."

_What?_ "Are you saying you… shadowbend?"

"Exactly", the witch—there is no other word to call her—says proudly. "It is the most powerful bending, taught in the Shadowlands, where anyone can bend if they want to."

Daenerys stands up to march in the woman's direction, but suddenly she lets out a scream as her hands find her belly. Cersei's eyes widen. _No, it's too soon!_ She turns back to the witch. "This is your doing!", she hisses. "It is not her time to deliver!"

"Who says it's my doing?", the woman replies, but Cersei just glares. "She wanted to revive her sun and stars. It is not without a price."

Seeing red, she turns to Jorah. "Seize her", she commands, uncaring of how much authority she has or hasn't. It's not like Daenerys can say anything in her state. "I'll take Daenerys to her tent. Her baby is coming."

* * *

Rhaego, the stallion who mounts the world, the Avatar reborn, the future _khal_ … is stillborn. Not only that, he barely looks human.

Cersei decides against letting Daenerys see her son—honestly, she can't even tell whether it's really a boy or a girl. She pleads as soon as she wakes, but she shakes her head firmly. "As a mother", she explains, "I cannot, in good conscience, let you see what that witch did to your son. Trust me, _khaleesi_ , it's better if you stay with your imagination."

She has to repeat that, in different words, a few other times, until the girl concedes. Then, "Where is Mirri Maz Duur? I need to speak to her."

The Lannister woman frowns. "Arrested. Ser Jorah held her in a tent. Are you sure you want to talk to her?"

She nods. "Yes. She'll be punished by death, but I want to know why she did it. But first… let me see Drogo."

Slowly, she helps her stand up, and they leave the tent and go to the _khal_ 's. The man is lying with his eyes open, but unseeing. "Doreah says he's been like this since you left the temple", she says softly. "His condition hasn't changed."

Daenerys' eyes are filled with tears. "What have I done?", she whispers. "I should have trusted the others when they said this was a bad idea."

"None of us could have predicted that", she replies immediately. "She seemed to be exactly what she claimed, and no one doubted her until it was too late. _She_ is the only one to blame for all of this."

The girl sniffs, but then straightens herself up. "Take me to her", she orders, voice firm. "We'll get to the bottom of this."

She nods and guides her to the tent where Jorah stands. "She hasn't said a word since we tied her up", he informs them. "Be careful, _khaleesi_. You too, my lady."

"Thank you", she replies to him as they enter. The woman raises her head to meet their eyes and smirks.

Daenerys doesn't waste any time. "What have you done to my husband and my son?"

Her smirk widens. "My home has been pillaged and destroyed by your husband and his friends too many times to count. You think I'd be kind to your people, when you have been nothing but cruel to mine?" She chuckles. "I have nothing to lose, and everything to gain, with your demise. There will be no stallion mounting the world to conquer us. There will be no Avatar to vanquish the powerless. The shadows will prevail over the world, and no benders or warriors will reign over us."

For a moment, Daenerys is rendered speechless. Just as Duur begins to laugh, she snaps out of whatever trance she was in and says, "If you truly think that, then you are no different from the ones you hate. You want power and control as much as the _khals_ and benders you speak of with distaste. And, since you _do_ bend, and since you _are_ a power-thirst vengeful woman, you'll be rid of, just like you did with my husband and my son." She turns to Cersei. "Let's go. I'll order her execution tonight."

She takes her in the arm and proceeds to leave. Then, they hear the witch speak up again, "Don't you want to know whether there is another chance for you? Whether you can have hope or not?"

Without turning around, Daenerys shakes her head. "No", she replies firmly. "I won't believe your words anyway." Neither of them waits for Mirri's reply.

* * *

Daenerys goes back to Drogo's tent, but asks to be left alone with her husband. Hours later, she exits the tent announcing his death.

There is a whole debate regarding the _khaleesi_ 's fate, for she refuses to be taken to the _dosh khaleen_. Cersei supports her decision; it is not a place she'd want to spend the rest of her days, especially at such a young age. _A life wasted in one single place, doing nothing but predicting the future of unborn children and playing wise crone._

The discussions are paused when the time comes to prepare the funeral pyre for Drogo, which is also where Mirr Maz Duur will meet her end. Jorah and Rakharo bring the witch to the pyre and tie her to a wooden pole, while Aggo and Jhogo carry their _khal_ 's body. Then, Daenerys comes out of her tent with her dragon eggs. She climbs the pyre and places them along her husband's corpse. She frowns, but it's Jorah who voices her confusion. " _Khaleesi_ , what are you doing with the eggs?"

Daenerys just smiles as she exits the pyre. "I'm testing a theory. Something I saw in a dream. Don't worry." She then turns to Mirri Maz Duur. "Any last words?"

The witch looks at her with pure disgust. "Enjoy the sun", she says slowly, "before it goes down forever."

Her words remind Cersei of another witch, the one who predicted her future.

_"Will the king and I have children?"_

_"Oh, aye. Six-and-ten for him, and three for you. Gold shall be their manes and gold their shrouds. And, when your tears run dry, the valonqar shall burn your sorrows. The sun shall rise, but you won't bear witness to the dawn."_

Obviously, it's a future she doesn't ever want to see come true, but something in those last words makes her smile. _No matter how long the sun stays down, it will always rise again._

Daenerys shakes her head and, wordlessly, inhales and exhales. Fire rapidly spreads all over the pyre, engulfing Drogo, the eggs, and the witch. It raises high, and soon neither person can been seen through the flames; the only evidence they are there being Duur's piercing screams. Then, all of a sudden, Daenerys climbs the burning pyre. "NO!", she screams, but the girl doesn't hear her, or anyone else who shouts for her.

She feels a pair of arms holding her, and she turns to see Aggo. On her side, Jorah is also being held down. "This is her decision", he says slowly. "Whatever comes from it, it's her choice."

She's never heard the man speak so carefully; it's probably what makes her stop. Eventually, he releases her, and she just stands there. Duur eventually stops screaming, and Daenerys' voice cannot be heard. She hopes for the best, but fears the worst. _How can she survive this? What was she thinking? Did she assume she was fireproof, like so many of her ancestors over the decades? Has she gone mad with grief?_

Her mind spirals with thoughts of the Targaryen girl's death, and what it means for her future. With both Drogo and Daenerys dead, she likely won't be welcomed in the _khalasar_ anymore. _Ser Jorah will probably be kicked out too. I can use his help to find somewhere else to live._ She can't think of options; she doesn't know any other city aside from Pentos and Vaes Dothrak; the latter is out of question, and she doesn't like the idea of going back to the former.

After what seems like hours, she hears something that is best described as a mix of screeching and roaring. Once, twice, thrice. The fire begins to die out… to reveal Daenerys standing tall, naked, bald and covered in ashes, with three winged creatures— _dragons_ —resting on her shoulders and head.

As the image and its implications hit her, she falls on her knees. Around her, she hears others doing the same. A voice echoes in her mind: _Queen you shall be… until there comes another, younger and fairer, to take all that you've once held dear._

Once, she feared every girl who appeared before Rhaegar, and later Robert, thinking they'd be the one to steal her place. That Cersei would hate Daenerys with all her might… but no more. _I won't let you be right, witch. I will write my own story, my own destiny, starting today._

Her eyes lock with the girl's, and, trembling, she proclaims, "All hail Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, _Khaleesi_ of the Green Grass Sea, the Unburnt, Mother of Dragons, First of her Name, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."

Daenerys smiles widely as she leaves the pyre. At her side, Ser Jorah repeats her words, though not in the exact same way—and how could he, when she improvised the whole thing on spot—while Jhogo, Aggo and Rhakaro call her blood of their blood, followed by the entire _khalasar_ pledging themselves to her.

First, Daenerys goes to Jorah. "Rise, Ser Jorah of House Mormont, Lord Commander of my Queensguard", she declares softly. The man looks at her in awe as he follows her command. Then, she walks to her. "Rise, Cersei of Houses Lannister and Targaryen, Hand of the Queen."

She smiles widely as she stands up. The dragons screech.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this is as exciting for you to read as it was for me to write <3  
> IMPORTANT: the next three chapters, while they cover different time spans, will all end around the same time, which is shortly after the end of this one.


	23. Ygritte I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> News of the outside world reaches the Eyrie, and Jon's group has decisions to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, two reminders before we begin this chapter:  
> \- Mya is betrothed to Ronnet Connington and is set to leave the Eyrie with Yohn to meet him anytime now.  
> \- This chapter ends shortly after Cersei II did.

Tonight, there is a singer to entertain their supper—Marillion, she remembers. She likes him best out of all singers who visit the castle, although Sweetrobin complains that he always sings the same fifteen songs. "That's more than I could ever be able to sing", she replies.

"I'll concede that, but imagine hearing the same fifteen songs for _years_."

"Your mother listens to the same fifteen songs too, perhaps for longer than you, and she doesn't seem to mind."

They agree to disagree in the end, and the subject is never brought up again, even when he comes now. _Ygritte_ doesn't know all of his songs yet; tonight's song, for example, is a new one.

_[Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xIRZl_sjAOo) is on the line, when the same mistakes are made  
Over and over and over again  
Love is on the line, when jealousy fades  
And we no longer look back when walking away_

"Where is this song from?", she asks Sweetrobin.

He shrugs. "I'm not sure", he replies. "From the North. Marillion claims to have learned all his songs on docks."

"Eastwatch", Jon says suddenly. She turns to look at him. "You never heard it before?"

"No, never. You have?"

"Yes, at the Wall. Black brothers who come from Eastwatch-by-the-sea sing it sometimes. I'd never be able to sing it from beginning to end, but I recognize the lyrics."

She hums and turns her attention back to the food. She has never eaten fish so often as she does in this castle. It's not something she expected from a place that isn't exactly near the ocean, but Mya—her first female friend who isn't a child in years—says fish has been common since (Lady) Lysa's arrival, and even more so after her husband's death.

Jaime—or Ser Sisterfucker, as she prefers to call him, both mentally and out loud—is the only one most used to fish aside from (Lady) Lysa. Apparently, he has lived near the coast for most of his life.

Technically, Ygritte has lived near water for a good amount of years. Her early childhood was spent near the coast that leads to Bear Island, close to the Wall outpost called Westwatch. It was only after her mother's death that she moved closer to the main villages, which are near Castle Black. She has also been close to where was once Hardhome—though she's never been to the ruined town—and has even seen the sea there. However, meat was usually preferable, since nobody liked to leave an animal dead—it was said to be a bad omen, to leave meat and bones out in the open. _Now I know why_ , she muses. _It's a habit born of fear of wights. We forgot them, but not our fears, and now we're reminded of the reason._

_I know we still believe in love  
I can't believe we're giving up_

"Jon", (Lord) Royce calls him. When Jon raises his head in his direction, he continues, "I have some matters to discuss with you and Ser Jaime. It's about the Night's Watch."

She raises her eyebrows. If this is about the Night's Watch, why is he bringing Jon to the conversation?

_Oh, I wish that we were strong enough  
To remember how we were before we tried  
Oh, the night is never long enough  
To forget about the lonely nights we cried  
When our love was on the line_

Both men turn closer to the old lord. "My son Robar went to the Wall after the Night's Watch requested men to aid their fight against the Others. He left shortly before you arrived, although he began preparations as soon as I was informed of Waymar's death and… return."

She remembers overhearing that conversation, on their first days in the castle. (Lord) Yohn approached Ser Sisterfucker to ask about his son's death, and he and Jon told him not only about the ranging mission from which he never came back, but how the two of them fought his wight self when it invaded the Wall—thus confirming everything the letter said.

Sweetrobin later pestered her with questions about the Others, and many meals were filled with talks about the threat north of the Wall, although (Lady) Lysa didn't look all that interested in them. She seemed more concerned about Jon's airbending training—or rather, how it interfered with her son's own practice, even if Sweetrobin himself never minded giving up some training days in order to help Jon master the art faster.

_All we ever did was fight  
It no longer matters who's wrong or who's right  
And after all this time, nobody wins  
There's only the memory of what we have been_

"I've just received word from him about his time in the Wall", (Lord) Royce continues. "First of all, it seems that your strategy of temporary service was a good idea, Ser Jaime. Although the numbers didn't increase _greatly_ , Robar tells me he's seen men from many Northern houses, as well as a few riverlanders, and even Sandor Clegane chose to stay when your brother visited the Wall recently."

Sisterfucker blinks. "I'm sorry, did you just say Tyrion has been to the Wall?"

The old man nods. "According to my son, he wrote his letter just after your brother's departure. He never found out the reasons behind his visit, although it seems he had expected to find you there. Robar seems to believe you are merely a wandering crow, recruiting more men to the Night's Watch—which brings me the question, Ser: who _knows_ about Jon being the Avatar?"

It's Jon himself who answers. "House Stark is entirely aware, and some members of their household know too. My awakening as Avatar was witnessed by Lord Eddard, Lady Catelyn, Robb, Sansa and Uncle Benjen, as well as members of the Night's Watch. Thanks to that, and my training under Maester Aemon, all black brothers know of my identity. However, _only_ sworn brothers are privy to this secret. Recruits are kept in the dark, and I doubt the Lord Commander would let it be spilled to temporary members."

"Why?", (Lady) Lysa asks, in one of the very few demonstrations of interest in a talk of the Others and the Night's Watch. "Shouldn't people be aware of the Avatar's rebirth, thus giving more hope for salvation?"

_I know we still believe in love  
I can't believe we're giving up_

Jon tenses up—it's subtle, and she doubts anyone other than her notices—and Sisterfucker clears his throat. "Jon is a bastard", he says, "as you are well aware, my lady. We all feared parading a Frost as the Avatar reborn would drive the lords away from our cause. We also feared revealing the Avatar's existence would make people think there is no real need for armies, which is far from the truth. Even as a fully realized Avatar, Jon is just one person, and gods know how large the army of the dead is."

"Which brings me to the other topic of my son's message", (Lord) Yohn intervenes. "He tells me the Night's Watch has gone on multiple ranges, and, the farther they go, the less are the chances that the entire party comes back unscathed. Sometimes, nobody comes back. Robar claims six or seven rangers came back as wights, and now they keep one locked in the cells to show to new recruits."

She nods in approval of the idea. For so long, people would not believe the threat of the Others was real; the Night's Watch only began to take the matter seriously after Jon and Sisterfucker brought a wight's head to them. She remembers the blond knight telling her that, prior to that fateful fight, he believed the tales about the Others to be a scare tactic between rival wildling factions. At first she found his theory absurd, but slowly she came to realize it made perfect sense to someone who had no reason to believe the dead could rise. _Showing_ the threat to newcomers is an excellent idea, come to think of it.

_Oh, I wish that we were strong enough  
To remember how we were before we tried  
Oh, the night is never long enough  
To forget about the lonely nights we cried_

The three of them—she, Jon and (Ser) Jaime—all share looks. "Things escalated quickly after our departure, then", Jon says. "No other wight had attacked the Wall before we left. I know it's been almost half a year since then, but…"

Her curiosity makes her join the conversation. "Has he mentioned any sightings of wight hordes? Any clue on whether they are gathering somewhere?"

The old man shakes his head. Sweetrobin frowns and asks, "Why? Have you seen any of those?"

She shrugs. "I've never _seen_ them in groups, unless it's from people who died in the same place at roughly the same time. _But_ we'd hear stories from Thenns every now and then. They live—or used to live, I don't know how they are now—really far North, so they'd be the first to witness this kind of thing."

_I can't believe it baby, I can't believe it's true  
I can't believe it baby, I can't believe it's happening  
To me and you  
I can't believe it baby, I can't believe that we are through_

It's (Lady) Lysa's turn to frown. "Where did you live, Lady Ygritte, before meeting the Avatar?"

She briefly glances at Jon, who gives her the slightest of nods—he knows she's silently asking whether it's safe to share the story of how the Free Folk crossed the Wall peacefully. "I belonged in a nomad group, who followed the King-beyond-the-Wall, Mance Rayder. We've been living south of the Wall for a while, though. In what is called the Gift, where we built a village for ourselves."

"Lord Commander Mormont made a deal with Mance", Jon explains. "Safe passage through the Wall in exchange for aid. Not all of his followers agreed, and we have yet to empty all villages beyond the Wall, but I think at least half of the Free Folk has settled in the Gift by now."

The lady still looks suspicious—when doesn't she?—and asks, "Is House Stark aware of this?"

"Lord Stark has approved of this, and House Umber also provides assistance. I think it's safe to assume most Northern Houses are aware at this point, and, if Lord Tyrion has made his way to the Wall, I assume House Lannister knows about it too."

"The Crown?"

"Presumably, yes." It's barely noticeable, but Jon doesn't sound so sure this time. "Lord Stark _is_ Hand of the King, after all, and my uncle sent word of my encounter with the wight. Of course, we can't predict whether King Robert will believe him."

"Surely if he tells him about you, he won't have a reason to question the truth of it."

Jon shrugs, but the tension comes back to his muscles. Oh, she remembers _why_ the king can't know about him. "Perhaps, my lady, but I can't speak for his actions, especially not the ones done in King's Landing."

(Lady) Lysa nods slowly, but doesn't look entirely convinced. "Have you written to him since your departure from the Wall?", she asks. "Given he's your father, and is directly involved in all of… this, it would be wise to keep in touch, wouldn't it?"

There is something in her tone that irks her, and Jon seems to think the same. "Like I said, my lady", he replies, slowly, "we'd rather not parade my status as Avatar so soon. Lord Eddard knows where I am and what I'm doing, but we'd rather not draw too much attention to ourselves. The king may know about me, but how can he—we—trust the rest of the court?"

It's a clever answer, one she'd never come up with herself. Have Jon and Sisterfucker rehearsed excuses while she was away with Sweetrobin?

In truth, Jon hasn't reached out to his uncle a single time after Benjen sent his letter. The only contact with his family was through (Lady) Catelyn, when they made a stop at Winterfell. Since (Lady) Lysa hasn't shared any news from there or the royal city, they know nothing of the world outside the Vale—which, now that she thinks about it, is quite concerning.

She says nothing on the matter for now, though, choosing to focus on her food instead. Marillion sings a couple more songs and retires for the night. Soon, dinner is over, and they all retreat to their chambers. When she sneaks inside his, however, Sisterfucker is there too.

"Lock the door and come sit close to us", he instructs her. When she sits right next to Jon in the bed, he speaks again. "Lysa is withholding information. She knows something, and, whatever it is, it's making her even more suspicious of us." He fixes his stare on Jon. "I don't think she fully believes in your story, Jon."

"Which part?", he asks in a hushed tone.

"People have assumed, thanks to you supposedly being Lord Eddard's son, that your first element was ice. But she might think something is not up with the fact that you are so well acquainted with the Night's Watch. Rumours that you grew up in the Wall, or even among wildlings, have long ago reached _King's Landing_. Who knows what she heard of the Bastard of Winterfell?"

A short silence follows. "Do you think Ser Brynden spilled something to her?", he asks. "He knows my true origins." His voice is filled with regret. It's not a new one; he has confided in her once that he feared telling the knight of the Bloody Gate about his parentage was a mistake.

Jaime shakes his head, though. "The Blackfish wouldn't do such a thing, not when he was the one to suggest you kept it hidden from his niece in the first place." He sighs. "Look, she's been resentful of me ever since I chose to become Kingsguard instead of wedding her. Then, rumour has it she lost her maidenhead to Lord Baelish, and then was forced to wed Jon Arryn, who was older than her own father. You and I are reminders of everything that's gone wrong in her life, and, in my case, I'm likely one of the many people she blames for her misery. She was bound to dislike our presence from the start, especially since you've taken training time off her son."

"That doesn't explain her being _suspicious_ of us", she replies. "I get that she wants us gone as soon as possible. But, if that's all, she would actually support her son getting days off training so Jon can master airbending faster. The sooner he masters it, the sooner he leaves, and things go back to normal for her. She didn't even send men to the Wall, did she?"

Both men shake their heads. "She claims House Royce's assistance should be enough for the time being", Sisterfucker explains. "In truth, I think she doesn't care much about anything other than her son, so she won't move a finger unless he is in immediate danger."

"Then _why_ bother with us?", she asks, to them and to herself. "Why question Jon of his plans, if they make no difference to her?"

"That's what I've been wondering too", the knight replies. "And that's what makes me certain she has information we're not privy to. Who knows what's happening in King's Landing, or in Winterfell? For all we know, Lord Stark outed Jon to the world, and she knows you are hiding your parentage from her. If she suspects you are lying or omitting important information, she will fear for her safety and her son's, and she'll do anything to keep him safe."

"Then we must find out by ourselves", Jon decides. "You two are the best suited for the task, since you have more contact with the household than I do."

"I'll do it", she offers. "I'm essentially a nobody here, so people won't mind if I ask questions. They might even think I'm just being curious about 'the world outside'. I don't think Ser Sisterfucker has the same luxury."

"I don't", he agrees. "I can ask a few strategic questions, but not many. Lysa is probably watching over us three, but Ygritte is more easily ignored."

It's settled, then; she'll act as their spy in the castle. They decide on which questions are safer to ask. When Jaime leaves, she is too tired to do anything other than cuddle with Jon, so they fall asleep in each other's arms.

* * *

She rules Mya out immediately. As close as they got over her months there, the girl has direct contact with (Lady) Lysa due to her side job transporting food to the castle, so asking her from news from outside is potentially dangerous for both of them.

She tries out the servants and chambermaids, but they know next to nothing about anything past the Bloody Gate, so she gives up on them quickly. Her next target is the singer, Marillion, who's set to stay over for quite a while. She approaches him under the guise of wanting to learn some of his songs, and even offers to teach the one song she knows—the one Sweetrobin has pestered her a lot after she sang it, asking for stories about said 'Scarborough fair' (as if she knows anything beyond what the song says).

"This is the latest I've learned", he says when finishes singing a song that seems to be about hope and homecoming.

"Where is it from?", she asks, hoping it's from somewhere relevant to Jon.

"I learned it in Duskendale." At her frown, he explains, "It's a city near King's Landing. It's famous for being the place where its old lord tried to kidnap the last Targaryen king."

She cares little for said king, but the mention of King's Landing sparks her interest. "How are things there nowadays? I know little about those places."

He chuckles. "Funny thing, m'lady, but rumours of your Avatar seem to have reached there. Whatever he did on your way here, it got spread like wildfire."

This doesn't bode well. "Can you tell me more about them?", she asks, as politely as she can. This may be the answer they are looking for.

He proceeds to tell the rumours he's heard. Many sources claim the Kingslayer—which, she remembers, is Sisterfucker's old title—is the Avatar reborn, although some identify them as a Stark or as a random peasant girl. _Three suspects, and they fit the truth that Jon, Jaime and I traveled together._ She has to tell Jon that it's imperative that they stick to the plan of leaving the Vale with Mya when she goes to meet her future husband; it's not safe for the trio to travel alone anymore.

Marillion then tells her about the many theories that came with the assumption that Sisterfucker is the Avatar, each one funnier than the last. Then he changes subject and starts talking about the situation in King's Landing. "King Robert has wedded another. A Tyrell, which is a plantbending noble house."

She vaguely remembers that bending form as one Jon is to master last. She thinks it's the… Reach? Maybe he was counting on said Tyrells, but if they are in the royal city, he will have to rely on someone else's assistance.

He continues. "I've heard she's already pregnant. Let's all hope the child really is the king's this time." He plays a note. "Well, m'lady, that's all I have to tell you. Do you want to hear another song? This one I learned on the one time I've been to Lannisport."

She says yes, and he begins to play a love song. Her mind is elsewhere, though, trying to make sense of what she's learned so far.

* * *

Over the following days, she learns little else. No news on Winterfell or Jon's family. Jon even tries to ask (Lord) Royce about those, but the man seems to know nothing.

Ser Sisterfucker agrees that leaving with Mya's party is their safest option—though not before laughing his ass off upon hearing that people call _him_ the Avatar reborn. "They think my children are tiny Avatars, and I bedded Cersei to _empower_ them?"

"Yup. And that you killed that king of yours because he found out who you are. Also, that you and Cersei plotted to have Tiny Avatar Number One in the throne as a means to conquer the entire world."

At that, he laughs to the point of tears. "Fuck, Ygritte, this is the best thing I've heard since Ned Stark spared me from death. Seven hells, if Jon doesn't reveal himself soon I'll be turned into the eight god by these people."

Jon also laughs at those stories. "I wonder what the history books will say of you years from now, Jaime. Kingslayer, Sisterfucker, the Avatar reborn… accused of conspiring against King Robert to place his overpowered son on the throne… fancied himself a Targaryen by fucking his sister to strengthen the Avatar bloodline…"

"I bet someone will wonder whether Cersei and I aren't, in fact, Aerys' children. Everyone knows my mother served as Queen Rhaella's lady-in-waiting for a time; it wouldn't be too far-fetched to come up with this theory, not with all that is already being spread."

More laughs.

On the same day, (Lord) Royce announces he and Mya will leave in a sennight. "I wished to grant you some sort of master's trial", he tells Jon, "but I believe we can finish your training on our way. You _are_ all but a master, anyway."

He's right; Jon's skill level in airbending has already surpassed his abilities in metalbending—which is quite a feat, given Jaime's training regime was far harder than the old lord's, back in the Wall and on their way to the Vale.

Sweetrobin is determined to spend as much time with the three of them as possible. He has taken a liking even to Sisterfucker, thanks to his swordplay lessons. She expects (Lady) Lysa to be relieved, but her eyes seem to watch them even more closely. What the hell is going on in the woman's mind?

The answer comes on the day of their departure.

Ever the polite guy, Jon delivers a speech of gratitude to (Lady) Lysa and Sweetrobin. She doesn't pay much attention to it and merely waits for her turn to thank them, right after Sisterfucker's. The lady looks at them with an air of superiority that reminds her of the man who took her maidenhead right before she knocked him out.

To her surprise—though maybe she should have expected it—Mya steps up to thank them for fostering her when she came with Royce. After she finishes her speech, (Lady) Lysa stands up from her seat and steps ahead. "It was our pleasure to have you in our home, Mya. Robert and I will miss you greatly."

Sweetrobin nods repeatedly. "Yes! Please visit us as soon as you can, Mya! And write often!"

The smile on the woman's face is sincere. "I'll write as often as possible, my lord."

(Lady) Lysa's smile, however, falters as she turns to Jon. "I'm afraid, though, I cannot say the same for the Avatar and his… friends, however." Her voice is cold, and Ygritte has to fight her instinct to draw her bow. "For he has hidden key information about himself from his hosts."

(Lord) Royce glances between his overlady and Jon. "What are you talking about, my lady? Jon has revealed his biggest secret when he came asking for training, no?"

She shakes her head. "That is not what I've been told." She then produces a parchment and unfolds it. "This letter came from Lord Baelish, Master of Coin. Let me read it aloud for you.

" _It has come to my knowledge that rumours of the Avatar reborn have been spread all over the realm. They have been spotted along in the North, the riverlands and the Vale. If you ever come in contact with them, my lady, whoever they are, I advise you to report to me and be careful._

" _Most rumours point to the Kingslayer as the Avatar, and it's true that he travels around the realm as a recruiter_ — _or so the Night's Watch says. However, septons and maesters have reminded us that all prophecies regarding the Avatar's return portray them as being born a firebender, and it is well known Jaime Lannister metalbends since the cradle._ "

She tries, but fails, not to gulp. This Lord Baelish may not know that Jon is the Avatar, but anyone who does is bound to connect the dots sooner or later. (Lady) Lysa is not the brightest person she's met, but she is not stupid either.

" _You know as well as I do, my lady, how dangerous firebenders are. This Avatar is either Essosi or carries Targaryen blood. I repeat, be careful, especially if it's the latter case._ " The lady raises her head. "So, Jon _Frost_ , what is the truth? Are you sure you are not Jon _Fyre_?"

To his credit, Jon manages to frown. "I'm afraid I don't follow your logic, my lady. I grew up as Lord Stark's bastard until I was declared the Avatar reborn. I've heard the prophecies, but, with all due respect, they all are centuries old. For all we know, they are the result of wishful thinking following the last Avatar's death."

"Don't try to play with me, _Avatar_ ", she spats. "You've already confessed that my good brother hid your powers from the realm, since he's told us all, for years, that you were a non bender." Oh, fuck. "Honorable Ned Stark, lying to everyone about who his bastard really is. Now tell me, which firebender did he bed to sire you? Or… is it possible that you are not even _his_ , after all?"

Fuck, fuck, fuck. "Baelish has been filling your head with fantasies, my lady", Sisterfucker intervenes. "Are you now claiming he is some secret Targaryen? We all know the last Targaryens are in _Essos_ , not hidden in plain sight in the North. What would your late husband think of you throwing senseless accusations at the one person who can save us from the Others?"

She huffs. "You and your talk of those Others. The Wall has protected us for generations. This is merely an excuse to parade your status around the realm. The Bastard of Winterfell, the Avatar reborn, savior of the realm. Perhaps my late husband would give your tales credit, like Lord Yohn did, but he's no longer around, is he?" She swears she saw the corner of her lip lifting. "I received another letter from Lord Baelish yesterday. It says King Robert has been convinced that there _is_ , indeed, a secret Targaryen traveling the realm claiming to be the Avatar reborn, and is set on bringing them down. In honor of _my late husband_ , his foster father, I _must_ bring Jon Fyre to him. Don't you agree, Lord Royce?"

She turns to the old man, fixing him with a cold glare. He clears his throat. "My lady, there is nothing to prove Jon is a Targaryen. He firebends because he was trained by Maester Aemon, not because he has the blood of the dragon. Who could even be his Targaryen parent, anyway?"

"Queen Rhaella, for one", she replies instantly. "We all know she was pregnant at the end of the rebellion, even if Aerys is clearly not the father. He's the right age to be her son. And there is also her firstborn, Prince Rhaegar. He kidnapped Lyanna Stark, didn't he? Who's to say he didn't impregnate her?"

Although the lady's words ring too close to the truth, Jaime is quick to the rescue. "I think", he says, "I would recognize a son of Rhaegar anywhere, anytime, my lady. I'm one of the few people still alive who saw him long enough to memorize his features. And we all know Stark brought Jon home _before_ Lord Stannis assaulted Dragonstone. We can spend hours here speculating who Jon's mother is if you wish, but he has no Targaryen blood running through him."

(Lady) Lysa, however, is unmoved. "Your duty was to the king you killed, not to Rhaegar. You got into the Kingsguard not long before he and Lyanna Stark went missing. I'm not stupid, Kingslayer. If Jon is indeed a mere bastard of Ned Stark, he can answer for himself in King's Landing. In the meantime…" She glances over at the guards. "Seize the three of them."

Jon's eyes widen. "No!", he exclaims. "Leave Ygritte and Ser Jaime alone. I'm the one accused of being a secret Targaryen, not them."

"They are guilty of hiding you", the lady replies coldly. "By not revealing your parentage and aiding you in your quest for power, the Kingslayer not only commits treason, he is choosing to take sides on an eventual war, something his current vows forbid. It makes him once again an oathbreaker, and the Night's Watch is not as lenient with those." Then she fixes her stare at Ygritte. "By leaving the lands beyond the Wall, your _lover_ accepts to answer to the Crown. Therefore, her acts are treasonous as well. Seize them all."

She takes a step behind and, _finally_ , takes her bow. _I won't go down without a fight. I'm not guilty of a damn thing!_

Sisterfucker seems to think the same. He draws his sword and raises it to the guards. "None of us have committed any crimes", he says carefully. "The Night's Watch is honor bound to protect the Avatar, and I won't let you arrest him, or Ygritte."

"If you are innocent", the woman replies, "then you have no reason to fear a few days of imprisonment."

"It's precisely because we are innocent that I won't let you arrest any of us!", he exclaims, and his sword clashes against one of the guards'.

Another comes for her, and she shoots him an arrow without hesitation. Jon uses airbending to push two guards to the ground, and draws his sword to clash with another's. Distantly, she hears someone ask (Lady) Lysa if she's gotten insane; she doesn't hear her answer, for a scream cuts the air.

She catches a glimpse of its source: Sweetrobin has fallen to the ground in a seizure. In her shock, she nearly misses a shoot. She's seen him shaking twice in their stay, but it's still horrific to see. His mother rushes to his side, screaming this is all _their_ fault, somehow, and commands the guards to _see them fly_.

There isn't much to do as the guards corner them near the Moon Door. Jon tries to firebend at them, but there are airbenders among the men, and they deflect his moves quickly. Jaime manages to harm a few, but it's still not enough for the big number of enemies circling them.

The door is opened, and the rush of wind nearly knocks her over. In her haste to get rid of as many guards as possible in order to escape, she misses a step and trips backwards. Before she can realize what happened, however, a pair of hands grabs hers. She looks up to see Mya.

"Lord Yohn is backing us up", she says hurriedly. "Come!", she starts pulling her, and Ygritte tries to push herself up too. Halfway through, though, someone pushes Mya forward, undoing all that work and nearly knocking her down.

"Let go, Mya", she calls. "You can't fall with me!"

"I won't let you fall!", she shouts, tightening her hold on her hands.

"You have to!" At Mya's side, she catches sight of Jaime hanging dangerously close to the door. "Get Jaime!", she tells her, forgetting any titles or nicknames the man has. "You can still help him and Jon!"

She sees her friend's resistance. _I'll have to make the choice for her before it's too late._ She looks down and sees some rocks. She raises her feet to touch them and then pushes, loosening her grip on Mya's hands in the process.

She faintly hears her scream as she falls. Closing her eyes, she allows herself this temporary peace. Jon took his time falling before propelling himself up that first time; it must be a long way to the rocky ground.

 _I hope you can keep going, Jon_ , she thinks, opening her eyes, watching the castle grow smaller and smaller. _The world needs you._

Then, suddenly, she sees a circling ray of light. _The gods must be coming for me_ , she guesses. _I must be near the ground._ As it reaches her, however, she realizes there are two people inside it. A bit closer, and she makes them out: Jon and Jaime.

Jon's eyes are glowing, and so is everything around him. _What the fuck is going on?_ Wordlessly, he reaches for hand. He's approaching her faster than her fall, so she's able to catch it quickly. As soon as she grabs his hand, he pulls her inside what she notices to be an air ball.

Her body collides with both Jon's and Jaime's, as the former flies ahead. She wants desperately to ask what is happening and where they are going, but finds herself unable to speak. Something tells her Jon won't be able to answer anyway.

Stuck between the men's arms and with her head buried in Sisterfucker's chest, she sees nothing of their path. A long time seems to pass when she feels them going down. "Jon", she hears the knight call. "Jon!"

She turns her head to see his eyes flutter. She can't look down, but Jaime's voice makes it clear this is no time for him to drop his bending. "Jon!", she calls him.

He doesn't turn his head to her direction, but he drops the arm that held her. She grabs Jaime's waist tightly as Jon uses his now free hand to icebend. Seconds later, she feels the rather familiar impact of her butt on cold ice—then her head as she slips down.

It's a tangled mess of limbs as they descend on what it seems to be an ice slide. Unfortunately, her head is the first thing to hit the ground, but it's not enough to knock her out—only to leave her dizzy as she tries to disentangle herself from the two men—Jon's body is crushing her right arm and Sisterfucker's is crushing her abdome and legs—and sitting up.

"What happened?", she asks weakly, not knowing _who_ she's talking to.

It's Jaime who replies, although he sounds as tired as she feels. "Jon started glowing out of nowhere, and then he was bending two elements at once." She turns to him to see him sitting up and massaging his knuckles. "I've seen him switching elements with ease, but never two at the same time. He stopped speaking and just… grabbed me. Then he jumped to get you. I—I don't know how else to describe it. Fuck, my head hurts."

"So does mine", she supplies. Her attention then turns to Jon. His eyes are closed, but he's breathing. "Do you think he'll be fine?"

He shrugs. "For all I know, it might have been some Avatar thing. Let's… let's make camp and put him to rest properly. Hopefully he'll wake up tonight or tomorrow."

She looks up at the sky; it's past midday, but too early for sunset. Then, she glances at the slide. "We've gotta get rid of this", she says. "I don't know how far Jon took us, but this thing will surely give our location away."

Jaime nods and, slowly, stands up. His sword is still with him, so he draws it and knocks the ice until it all breaks. Then, he surveys the area. "We are not in the Vale anymore", he declares. "That's for sure. This is the riverlands… but I can't pinpoint the exact point." He sighs. "No matter. We need to make ourselves unseen. Mya and Lord Yohn may have sided with us, but gods know what will happen in the Eyrie with our sudden and bizarre escape. And if Baelish truly suspects Jon's identity…" He trails it off as he grabs Jon's body.

"Who _is_ this Baelish man, anyway?", she asks. It's clear as day this man is dear to (Lady) Lysa and holds her blind trust; from Sisterfucker's words and body language, he does not seem to be a good man.

"Master of Coin in King's Landing", he replies. "He's from a recently founded noble house, which was supposed to be of airbenders, but its bending heritage seems to have died out quickly. He's its only surviving member. Anyway, I think he rose to the position thanks to Jon Arryn, Sweetrobin's father. But he's an asshole who can't be trusted. He's loyal to nobody but himself. I've always distrusted him, but since _I_ was never trusted in the Red Keep, I kept my opinions to myself."

"He could out Jon to the king, then", she guesses as they walk.

"Yes. I don't know if he'll do it right away or if he'll wait for a good opportunity, though. Revealing Jon's identity will certainly make Robert turn against Lord Stark, and I'm not sure if Baelish wants that." They stop in an area darkened by tree leaves. "We should try to find out how things are in King's Landing. News of the capital is always spreading around inns and taverns. But we are not nearly as safe as we were before reaching the Eyrie."

She nods, and they improvise camp silently. They had few camping supplies at their disposal, and many items flew away as they escaped the castle. Besides, both of them were exhausted, so they simply made their beds and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- The song sung at the beginning is 'Love is on the line' by Jack Savoretti. The songs mentioned by Marillion to Ygritte will appear in separate chapters. (If I'm not careful I'll turn this into a musical)  
> \- I'd love to have feedback on this chapter in particular. It was a tricky one to write, since Ygritte, Jon and Jaime are meant to suspect many things but be sure of almost none of them. It will take a while before we go back to King's Landing to clear everything up, so information will be given piece by piece.  
> Also, any guesses on where they are now? I'd love to know where you imagine this story going <3  
> Next chapter is Tyrion's again, and then we'll be introduced to some new characters! (We are faaar from introducing everyone)


	24. Tyrion III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I write what I to read, aka STARFALL! DAYNES! THE SWORD DAWN!  
> (Warning: it doesn't mean this is a happy chapter.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funny thing, I forgot there are many, many Lannisters who do live in Casterly Rock in the books. I'm using this chapter to correct it too.

Even though they wait an entire moon for their trip, Myrcella and Tommen still refuse to go to Starfall with them. Tywin insists, but doesn't force them; as accepting as Dorne is with bastard, his father is not too keen on parading the Stone siblings around.

As for the poor kids, they simply don't have any wish to travel and see new places, not with their older brother's death so new in their minds. Tyrion understands; he'd be same, had Jaime been the one to die—and it seems that Joffrey has treated his younger siblings much better in his last months of life, so maybe Jaime is a better comparison than Cersei, who he wouldn't mourn too much if he ever received news of her passing.

(Will he ever know if she dies before him?)

Fortunately, his aunt Genna is back from the Twins—where she had gone on some sort of annual mandatory Frey reunion—and offers to take care of them for the time being. Tyrion is particularly pleased to have his aunt back—it's his first time seeing her since he came with the children.

After his mother's death, Genna has done all she could to play a maternal role to the three Lannister siblings, with varied degrees of success. One of the few things he and Cersei have in common is their deep appreciation for their aunt, for all she's done to them. It hadn't been enough to prevent them from being fucked up all over, but enough for them to see she tried her best.

Genna's return comes with uncle Kevan's return as well, crowding the Rock with the Lannister family. It reminds Tyrion that he'll be far from alone when he arranges his father's death—not that he was worried about it before.

Allyria has been a source of comfort for the kids, more so than for him—he did his best to not show he _needed_ it, since he had quite some time to grieve on his trip to the Wall and back. Regardless, she sought after him for conversations, which helped him take his mind away from all the bad memories.

Uncle Kevan decides to go with them to Starfall, bringing his son Lancel along. Tyrion holds no love for his cousin, who squired for King Robert (along with cousin Tyrek) until he kicked all Lannisters out of King's Landing, following the annulment of his marriage to Cersei. Lancel always dreamed of being the next Jaime Lannister, but so far he has failed at every turn—though sometimes he thinks Cersei spread her legs for him when Jaime was away, which would be _one_ accomplishment.

No matter. He fully intends on spending his days on the ship with Allyria, even though he has to share his cabin with Lancel, and that's what he does. They share stories of the times they've been on the sea—pointedly ignoring his last voyage, of course.

"We always go to Sunspear by ship", she tells him, "even if sometimes it would be wiser to go by horse, and even if Ned prefers to feel the ground under his feet when he travels. But my brother and I always prefered the sea. The smell of salt, the sound of waves hitting the ship's hull… it's all very soothing."

"I have to admit, I'm more like your nephew", he replies. "Though obviously not for the same reasons. I like to see the change of scenery, the people moving around. I have to admit, though, ship travels at least are a guarantee that I'll sleep every night with a solid roof over my head."

She chuckles. "It's a great advantage in my opinion. That, and always having a proper privy."

He laughs at that. "Do you go to Sunspear often?"

She nods. "Once a year. And Oberyn goes to Starfall with Ellaria once a year as well. Elia and Ashara were close friends, which led to a good friendship between our families, one none of us wanted to die along with them. I recall they'll be there when we arrive."

Tyrion's eyebrows rise at that. _Interesting. All I have to do is to arrange a private conversation with Oberyn when we arrive. Father will be gone sooner than I thought._

* * *

Oberyn and his paramour are indeed there to greet them when they arrive, along with Allar Dayne and his son. They wait for them at the steps of Starfall, a small—but impressive—castle.

Lord Allar and Edric greet them with ease, already presenting themselves as familiar faces. Father and Uncle Kevan answer with distance, which seems to startle the kid. Cousin Lancel is slightly awkward at his greeting, but nothing that draws any reaction to them.

Oberyn and Ellaria Sand are all grins and light tones, uncaring if the other part of the exchange frowns at them. Tyrion finds he likes that, and greets them in kind. Meanwhile, Allyria is hugged by all four of them.

As they go upstairs to the main hall, Oberyn says, "I was hoping to meet the Stones. See if they are anything like their parents. I'm sure you remember, Lord Tywin, that I've met Cersei and Jaime when we were younger."

Father's face grows sterner, and Tyrion decides to answer before him. "Myrcella and Tommen couldn't bring themselves to travel after… their brother passed away."

Martell arches his eyebrows and actually looks sad. "My condolences, then. If I may ask, what happened to him?"

He looks down. "It's a long story, one I'd rather share after we are well rested, but, in summary, he was murdered in an attack by an Ironborn ship."

The man nods, his face solemn, and says nothing else. Ellaria and the Daynes offer their condolences as well, and they finally reach the main hall. "The servants will guide you to your chambers", Lord Allar announces. "My dear sister, come with me. Enjoy your old room while you still can."

She smiles and turns to Tyrion. "I'll see you later, my lord", she tells him before disappearing into a corridor.

Fortunately, Starfall has enough rooms for him not to share one with his cousin—or maybe he gets his own due to his status as Allyria's betrothed. Regardless of the reason, he's glad to have chambers for himself. Its window shows the sea, and he briefly wonders if this is the room where Ashara threw herself to her end—not that he's ever going to ask that.

At dinner, he tells Oberyn, Ellaria and the Dayne men about his fateful trip to the Wall, which leads to a two-hour explanation about the Others. Tyrion knows because he did his research, but not even his father is well-versed on the subject as he pretended to be when Jaime's first letter arrived.

"So, are they all evil benders?", Oberyn asks with amusement in his voice.

"Supposedly, yes", he replies, shrugging. "Tales vary on the elements they bend. Some say it's only water and its specialties, others add earth, and a few say one can find all elements among them. What is known is that wights retain their bending if their fatal injury didn't affect their chi."

At another point, Edric asks about the Night King. "I've heard tales of him once, from an old servant. She's long dead, so I never got the full story. Do you know it?"

He frowns, recalling what he read about it. "I know it's said he was the 13th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, although there is at least one source that claims he came to existence _before_ the Wall was built. It is also said he was human like us, but became an Other after laying with the Night Queen. The stories that claim him as a black brother say he ruled Nightfort for years, until Norhtmen and wildlings united to defeat him. The story that dates him before the Wall… I never read it in its entirety, but it claims a bigger fight was required, since he wasn't the only threat." At Ned's disappointed face, he adds, "We're talking about stories from centuries, perhaps thousands of years ago. We can't expect them to be perfectly detailed, or even reliable. Problem is, they're all we have against the current threat."

"One would think they'd report these battles as detailed as possible", Uncle Kevan says.

Lancel frowns. "Maybe they didn't think the same danger would arise again", he replies, and Tyrion nods in agreement. "You said the Avatar was involved?"

"The last Avatar reportedly died at the War for the Dawn", he confirms. "All we know about them is that they were an earthbender, which is why all prophecies regarding their return mention a firebender."

"Not Jaime, then", Tywin comments. Tyrion did mention his brother has been rumoured to be the Avatar reborn across the riverlands, a claim that obviously sounds absurd to anyone in Casterly Rock.

It's Allar's turn to frown. "Then _who_ could be the Avatar? These stories haven't reached Dorne, so it's all new to us."

"I have no idea", he admits. "Everyone who knows refused to give their identity away. Not even if it's male or female. The Free Folk and the Night's Watch know, and I suspect the Starks know too, but their mouths are tightly shut."

"But the Avatar _is_ reborn", his uncle says.

He nods. "Too many people claim it is to be untrue. And I've heard my brother is among their friends and close allies, which is probably why rumours have pointed to him."

His father takes a sip of wine. "You said Jaime and Cersei were spared of execution thanks to Ned Stark's interference. Correct?" He nods. "He must know who the Avatar is, then. He likely arranged for Jaime to be sent to the Wall to train them in metalbending. How else would he get so close to the Avatar?"

It's a question that has invaded his mind a few times since he came back from his trip. Whoever the Avatar is, they live either in Winterfell or north of it—probably the latter case. It's not far-fetched to assume they haven't had contact with metalbenders until Jaime showed up; actually, he'd bet they haven't been trained by anyone but waterbenders. Reports of sights of them stop by the Vale, which is plausible if they went there to be taught airbending.

"You know", he muses out loud, "I won't be surprised if the Avatar shows up here or in Sunspear. If they are from the North, I doubt they know anything about lava or sandbending." He drinks from his wine cup. "I suppose we'll know the truth then."

* * *

He only manages to get Oberyn alone a day before he and Ellaria are set to go back to Sunspear. They sit down for drinks in his chambers and begin to talk about… sex.

(Don't ask him how they got on that subject. He has no idea.)

Halfway through their conversation, Tyrion decides it's time. "So, Prince Oberyn, I actually came to you for a quite different reason. Not that our talk hasn't been… enlightening, but it's an important issue."

Oberyn arches his eyebrows, amused. "Then tell me, _Lord_ Tyrion. Whatever it is that would sway you from talking about your prowess?"

He nearly chokes in laughter, but shakes his head. "It's about House Lannister and debt payment."

The prince's smirk falls, replaced by a frown. "I need you to be a bit more specific."

"I'm talking about how my father has been in debt with your house for fifteen years. Aren't you looking for payment?"

He straightens up. "So you came to talk about Elia, Aegon and Rhaenys."

"Yes. We all know my father ordered them dead, even if he refuses to talk about it."

Oberyn grimaces for an instant, but then he clears his expression. "Well then, I suppose you have a proposition in mind."

He nods. "You are the only one my father is indebted with. You see, years ago, not long after the war, he drove my first love to suicide. All because she was not highborn."

At that, Oberyn's eyes grow wide. "I never thought he'd care about who you ended up with, or your life in general. Not after what I've heard and seen."

He tilts his head. "Seen?"

The prince nods. "I believe I mentioned last night that Elia and I visited Casterly Rock when we were younger, before my sister wedded Rhaegar. You were newborn, and already we could see how much your father hated you. Cersei as well. Only your brother seemed to care for you."

There is no argument for that, so he only agrees. "Jaime and Aunt Genna were the only ones who gave a shit about me. Uncle Gerion too, but he left when I was a small child, so he barely counts. The rest of the family either hates me or ignores my existence. Or did, until they were forced to acknowledge me as heir to Casterly Rock.

"Regardless, as much as he wished it wasn't the case, I am still a Lannister, and therefore unable to associate myself with anyone below my station. When he found out I married a farmer's daughter, he hired some men to rape her _and_ forced me to rape her too. He also made Jaime lie to me about her origins and tell me she was a whore paid to pretend to love me. My brother took years to reveal me the truth, to which he added that he saw the girl drown herself out of sorrow."

He has mentally recalled Jaime's words over and over these months. His brother's tone and facial expression told him of years of guilt and grief over his actions, even though it was clear as day he had little to no say on the matter. _What could you have done, brother? Defying Father would bring you no good. This is the man who decimated two Houses over unpaid taxes._

Oberyn's voice brings him back to reality. "I see… you want _payment_ as well." His eyes glimmer. "How may I help you?"

He shifts on his seat. "Your reputation precedes you, Prince Oberyn. The Red Viper of Dorne, they call you. I suppose it is not without reason, huh?"

Amusement is back on the man's face. "You want to use poison for the debt, right? Clever thinking, my _lord_. The right poison will make it look like he passed away peacefully in his sleep. When do you plan on carrying it on?"

"After my wedding", he replies easily. "Being married to Lady Allyria will cement my position as lord of the Rock. Besides, I'd rather have you bring the poison to me when you go to the wedding."

"Oh, I'm invited?"

"Of course. Your House is Dayne's overlord. I assume it wouldn't take much convincing to have your brother send you in his stead."

Oberyn hums. "No, it won't. It's usually either me or his daughter Arianne who represents him outside Sunspear anyway, ever since his pains had him stuck on a wheelchair. Since we've already met, and since I'm the one who's closer to Allyria, he won't bat an eye." He then smirks. "We've got a deal, Lord Tyrion. One more thing… how about your beast, the Mountain?"

"That matter will be a bit… complicated", he admits. "Ser Gregor is in Harrenhal at the moment, causing trouble for many Houses." He has heard about how he must have taken the castle by forcing Lady When't daughter to marry him. He fully believes this rumour, but so far House Lannister hasn't been called to deal with the matter—no one has received any letter about it anyway. "Depending on how many people he pisses off, you might have your revenge done by someone else. Who knows."

Oberyn licks his lips. "I'd rather avenge him myself. Single combat. It'd be sweet to run him over. But, as long as he meets a violent end, I'll be satisfied."

Tyrion makes a mental note to avoid being on Prince Oberyn's black list at all costs.

* * *

A day after the prince's departure, Allyria takes him to the Palestone Sword Tower to show him House Dayne's ancestral sword Dawn. "It's not made of Valyrian steel", she explains when she takes off the sheet that covers it, "but it's just as effective, or so the stories say. It is made of the core of a fallen star, and it shines in daylight and in darkness."

She touches the sword reverently. "Only a lavabending master can wield it; it matters not whether they are male or female, head of the house or not. My brother Arthur was its last wielder. Like all wielders before him, he was called Sword of the Morning while wielding it."

She sighs, and her expression turns impossibly sad. "When Lord Stark came to deliver it back, it was my sister who received it. I was a child, and I saw it from a distance. Ashara seemed tense, and to this day I don't know why. She then came here to put the sword to rest… and never came back down."

She walks to the window, and he follows. Her gaze is distant. "We never found a body. It was too late when we noticed her prolonged absence. Allar and I ordered our soldiers to look for her around the castle, hoping she had just run away, to no avail. After a sennight, we declared her dead."

He inhales. What can he reply to that? 'I'm sorry' doesn't seem enough. "I hope… she found peace, at last", he says.

It seems it's the right thing to tell, or at least not the _wrong_ one. She smiles sadly at him. "So do I, my lord." She turns her gaze to outside the window again. "To this day, I sometimes dream of her wielding Dawn. Ashara was no master like Arthur, but she had a talent that I can only hope Ned will grow to have someday. In my dreams she always wore the dress I last saw her with, and Dawn looks like it's an extension of her arm. It's such a vision, I wake up crying sometimes."

He opens his mouth to reply, but the ground under him shakes suddenly. It's so strong, he stumbles and falls backwards. He sees Allyria temporarily lose her balance, but she regains it after holding tight to the window sill. "What is this?", he asks her as he tries to stand—the ground is still shaking, although with a little less violence.

She shakes her head, eyes wide. "I—I don't know", she stammers. "The castle never shook before, even though it's above a v—" He doesn't like the way she interrupts herself and gasps. "But the volcano's been inactive for thousands of years… It wouldn't erupt unless— _Ned_!"

She loses her hold on the sill in an attempt to run, but the floor shakes violently again, throwing her to the ground. He ungracefully rushes to her. "What about Ned?", he asks.

"He—he's the only one who could reactivate the volcano", she replies. "But—it can't be. He's not even strong enough."

As if answering to her, lava appears from under the door of the room they are in. It spread fast, approaching them. "Allyria", he calls, completely forgetting property. "Stand up. We need to run. The castle will crumble under this lava."

"It won't", she replies firmly, sitting up. "It's built to be lava proof." She then stands up and grabs his hand. "But _we_ are not. We'll have to jump; there is no other way out."

Without waiting for his response, she circles his waist and lifts him up, although not without visible difficulty—he may be a dwarf, but he's no child. He carefully sits on the window sill, making space for her to join. "Are you sure this is the only one?", he asks, tension filling his core. "Your sister died jumping from here."

She looks behind them, and so does he. The lava is blubbering through the door, reaching higher levels as it touches the wall of the window. "Yes, it is", she replies evenly. Then she turns her eyes to the sea below them. "If we propel ourselves with our feet, we won't crash on the rocks. Can you swim?"

"A bit", he admits.

"Then hold me tight", she replies, circling him with her arms again.

He doesn't do a thing; the effort is all hers as she pushes herself with her feet. He barely has time to process what's happening before he feels the splash of the water on his back.

* * *

They are rescued by a small ship passing by, carrying banners from House Gargalen (that's what Allyria says, at least). From the deck, they watch as Starfall gets entirely covered in dark red.

It is only hours later that they find out only two servants aside from them survived. "We were near the main door", one of the girls explains, her eyes red from crying. "Lord Ned was—I don't know how to describe it. He looked weird for a moment. Lord Allar asked if he was okay, but there was never an answer. Lava erupted abruptly from under him. We almost got hit, but we ran out just in time. No one else was this lucky."

Not long after this report, they see House Martell's banner approaching. Oberyn approaches them fast with his horse. "We saw the castle turning red from afar", he tells them. "What happened?"

They debrief him on the sudden and confusing events. His sadness is genuine. "I'm sorry for you both", he says. "Let us take you to High Hermitage to rest. Starfall won't be safe until the lava is dry enough to be broken."

Allyria doesn't seem to like the idea much—he remembers her saying she doesn't like the family branch who lives there—but doesn't protest. They arrive at the castle in two hours.

They are greeted by Ser Gerold Dayne, a non bender knight. He expresses his condolences upon hearing what happened, but offers little comfort.

Oberyn leaves in the morning—he has duties to attend to in Sunspear, duties he can't ignore—but he speaks to Tyrion beforehand. "I suppose our… debt was paid."

He sighs. "It's not as satisfying as I thought it'd be."

"He was your family, despite everything. It rarely is satisfying."

Still, he always thought his father's death would bring him joy and/or relief. Maybe it's the _way_ he died—drowned in and burned by lava seemingly brought on accident by a novice lavabender—or the fact that so many other lives were claimed along his—his uncle, his cousin, Lord Allar, Edric himself… Oberyn and Ellaria were lucky to have already departed, or it could have been them as well. Whatever it is, Tywin's death weighs on his heart, much like Joffrey's.

In less than three months, he's lost two family members in tragic events. Is it some curse that has fallen on House Lannister? Who will go next? Him? Myrcella, Tommen? Aunt Genna? Another cousin?

He dwells on that for days, while waiting for the bodies to be retrieved. It's a slow work, and there is no complete guarantee they will find recognizable corpses.

His betrothed approaches him on their second day in High Hermitage. "Tyrion", she calls softly. "We need to talk… about our wedding."

He frowns. What is there to talk about? They must postpone it to deal with grief and repair Starfall. Her expression speaks of something else, so he lets her continue. "With your father's death, you now become Lord of Casterly Rock. With my brother and nephew's deaths, I become Lady of Starfall."

Suddenly it's clear where she is going. "It won't be good to have both of us wed to each other."

She nods, refusing to meet his gaze. "We both are required in our ancestral homes." She finally looks at him. "I'm sorry, Tyrion. I was looking forward to our wedding."

Against his better sense, his heart skips a beat. "So was I, Allyria… but you are right. We have duties to our houses." He reaches to grab her hand and kiss her knuckles. "I hope we can remain friends", he says softly, "and that the future will be kinder to us than the present."

She smiles, although it doesn't reach her eyes. "I hope so, too."

He leaves on a ship three days later, carrying Tywin's, Kevan's and Lancel's burned remains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the plan was always to have Tyrion plan his father's murder only to have the chance taken away from him. I'm not sure if this makes me a good or a bad person.  
> So, obligatory notes:  
> \- There is absolutely no canon mention of a House Frey annual gathering. I just used it as an excuse for Genna's and Kevan's absences from Tyrion I and II.  
> \- Ashara Dayne is stated to have thrown herself off the Palestone Sword Tower shortly after getting Dawn from Ned Stark's hands. It's easy to assume this is where the sword hangs now. Also, the sword's origin story is same as canon; it is said that the Daynes have wielded it for 10,000 years (wtf).
> 
> As I said previously, in the next chapter we'll be introduced to new characters! Who do you think they will be? And what did you think of the events of this chapter? Can you see a connection between them and what happened in the last two chapters? I want to know your thoughts! <3


	25. Aegon I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Pentos, a hidden prince makes a discovery that changes his life forever.

For as long as he can remember, Aegon always had an unsettling feeling inside. It follows him wherever he goes, whether he's aboard the _Shy Maid_ or he's out in docks. It rests on his fingertips, mostly, but he can feel it in his mind, his heart, his gut.

His adoptive father—the one who knew his _real_ father, whose face still shows pain when remembering him—claims it's his firebending trying to come to surface. "You must not firebend for now, though", he always says. "Your identity cannot be revealed before it's time."

 _When will it be time?_ He's been told, for all his life, he is the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. His father Rhaegar _should have_ taken the crown after Aerys—the Mad King, of whom neither of his tutors has nice words to speak—but he was brutally crushed to his death by an earthbender—Robert Baratheon, the Usurper, who now enjoys his power while using it to shit on the realm. Aegon is to claim the crown not simply for power, or because it's his birthright; Aegon is to claim the crown to _save_ the realm from ruin—or so they tell him.

He is mentored by his adoptive father and future Hand, Jon Connington, and a septa, Lemore, who seems to hide something behind her hauntingly violet eyes. He remembers to once have thought the two were together romantically, but that was before he realized who Jon's heart truly belongs to. Not that it was hard to guess.

His bending has been locked away when he was an infant, when he was sneaked out of the Red Keep and replaced with a random baby—he often finds himself mourning the poor boy who was sacrificed to ensure he'd escape, along with his sister and his parents, all of whom he never actually knew. There is a twitch inside him however, as if his bending is just waiting for said right moment to manifest itself.

Septa Lemora's voice shakes him out of his thoughts. "Come over, Griff", she says, using the name he goes by when people are watching, "Magister Illyrio is waiting for us."

"Yes, yes, I'm coming." He stands from his bed and takes one last look in the mirror. The blue dye on his hair is beginning to fade; he wants to change the color when the time comes to renew it. _I've never used red before. Jon used to be red-headed, and there are still a few red strands on his hair._ He doubts he will allow it, but Aegon _is_ a man already, so perhaps he doesn't really need to ask for permission.

 _It's strange. At this age, I should be taking lordlike responsibilities, and yet I barely command this ship._ Jon's word is the final one, not his, and whenever he tries to tell the sailors to do something they don't feel like doing, they dismiss him with a hand wave. It frustrates him to no end, but what is he going to do? Even if he could bend, he wouldn't _burn_ them; that would be unfitting for a king—unfitting for any decent person, actually.

He sighs, fixes his hair, grabs his sword—a Valyrian steel sword, Blackfyre, gifted to him by the leader of the Golden Company—and exits his cabin.

* * *

He's been to Illyrio Mopatis' home a few times, though he hasn't stepped foot inside it for two years. It still looks as opulent as he remembers—according to Jon, even more so than the Red Keep. _Good. This exuberance unsettles me._ Aegon grew up in a ship, pulling ropes and learning his way around things and people. Living in luxury—the mere idea of it feels odd.

 _Does this make me unfit for the crown? I cannot get rid of royal luxuries so easily._ Once again, he shakes the thought off. _When I am effectively king, I'll do as I please. My successors can have opulence all they want after I die._

During lunch, Illyrio informs them of his last blood relatives, Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen. "I haven't told them of your existence", he tells him. "Viserys is… unstable. He fashions himself the rightful king and threatens everyone who doesn't follow his whims. Daenerys is far more sensible and sympathetic, but I worry for her. Her brother essentially sold her to the Dothraki to get an army."

He frowns. "Doesn't he know the Dothraki have little love for the sea? How does he plan to get them on a ship?"

More than once he has suggested a meeting with his uncle and aunt. He even offered himself in marriage to Daenerys as a way to strengthen their bloodline and erase doubts on who is the rightful heir to the Iron Throne—it's Aegon, by all laws, but he seeks for peace, not for petty succession disputes.

"Who knows", Illyrio replies, sounding indifferent to the problem at hand. Something inside him is filled with suspicion, but he bites his lip to send the thought away. "Rumour has it that he's dead anyway. Hard to say how, but… King Robert has hired assassins to get rid of both siblings, and reports come of there only being Daenerys."

"Is she still alive?", Septa Lemore asks, voicing his thoughts. He hopes she is; he doesn't want to be the last Targaryen.

"Probably. I doubt her death would be kept quiet. Regardless, she is not alone. Ser Jorah Mormont follows her, and so does Cersei Lannister."

The name is unfamiliar to him, but not to Jon. "As in, Tywin Lannister's daughter?", he asks, rubbing his forehead. Oh, _that_ name is familiar. The Kingslayer's father, who led the Sack of King's Landing and the one behind his mother and sister's deaths. Jon had been long exiled by then, but Lemore was still in Westeros at the time and confirmed the story to them.

"Yes", he magister replies. "She was exiled after the Usurper found out she's cheated on him from the beginning of their marriage, and their children are not his."

Aegon raises his eyebrows. "And she was merely exiled for this crime?" He's seen and heard of men and women being executed for less.

"Strange, I know. For whatever reason, her brother—the Kingslayer—was also punished. Stripped of his white cloak and sent to the Wall. I do wonder why."

"Perhaps he knew about his sister's transgressions and helped her", Lemore argues.

"Perhaps." Illyrio's tone implies something else, though. Aegon tries to keep a straight face. _Does he think the two siblings were lovers? Is this something that happens in Westeros outside my House?_ Oh, well. Who is he to judge? He has proposed to marry his own _aunt_ , anyway. He nearly misses Illyrio's next words. "Regardless of what happened to the Kingslayer, what matters is that Lady Cersei earned Viserys' trust and even managed to wed him alongside Daenerys. Of course, if he truly is dead, she's following her good sister as a widow now. Who knows how long the two will stay together."

"I don't understand why she came to them in the first place", Jon says, frowning. "House Lannister betrayed the Targaryens at the end of the rebellion. Tywin sacked the city after Rhaegar died, and Jaime killed Aerys. If I were a Lannister, the last family I'd like to cross paths with is Targaryen."

"She convinced them her personal loyalties have lied with the Targaryens", the man replies. "Said she had been Elia Martell's lady-in-waiting—"

"True", Jon says.

"—and she tried to marry Rhaegar before that."

"Also true."

"She also said to hold no love for the current king, which is rather obvious given all evidence, and that House Lannister will surely support the Targaryens after being so unceremoniously cast aside."

Jon nods. "It does make sense", he admits. "Hopefully she is being truthful. If we manage to ally ourselves with Daenerys, we get House Lannister in the bargain, which means the whole West. It's no small feat."

His foster father firmly believes they can get support from Dorne and the Reach as well, given their history with House Targaryen and their actions in the rebellion. The crownlands are an enigma, though he thinks they can gather support from Houses Velaryon and Celtigar, at least.

Aegon seizes the opportunity to discuss something else, though. "Speaking of alliances… perhaps we really should make contact with my aunt. I fear the Golden Company won't be enough if there is another Targaryen competing for the Iron Throne."

"Daenerys' claim is even weaker than her brother's", Mopatis argues. "Between you and her, any Targaryen supporter will back _you_. She will understand that, sooner or later."

"I have a family member—my _last_ relative—who is trapped with a savage horde gods know where, suffering gods know what kind of violence under them", he retorts. "Daenerys is my aunt, but she is a young girl who essentially became a slave. You said it yourself just now. I don't intend on _competing_ with her for the throne. I intend to take her home _with me_."

From the corner of his eye, he sees Lemore smile in approval. His septa has always been the heart of their trio; Jon, for all his romantic conceptions of his father, always had a more pragmatic—and pessimistic—view of the world. His own expression now carries a suspicious streak.

Illyrio, however, looks almost amused. "If that is what you want, my _king_ ", he says, somewhat mockingly, "it will be done."

* * *

They stay for a few more days, gathering information on Daenerys and her whereabouts. Aegon finds out more about the last assassination attempt and learns about the Combustion Men—firebenders who get highly specialized training to be able to explode things and throw fire rays. He contemplates hiring some of them when he finally sails to Westeros; giving Robert Baratheon a taste of his own poison.

Speaking of the Usurper, Lemore finds out he already took a new wife: a Tyrell girl of Daenerys' age. "Rumour has it that she is pregnant", she tells him. "He clearly doesn't want to waste any more time without siring trueborn heirs."

He hopes this Tyrell girl also cheated on him, and that this child is also not Baratheon's. It's nothing less than the man deserves for destroying his family. _Hopefully House Tyrell will see reason when I go take the throne. I'll pardon them for this slip._

The last they hear of Daenerys is that she is near the Red Waste. Given the Dothraki's nomadic lifestyle, he doubts he'll be able to actually find her. He tells Illyrio to find a way to have Khal Drogo visit Pentos again; it will make things easier. "In the meantime, we'll find a way to gather Westerosi support", he adds. "I still don't think the Golden Company is enough."

It is nice to be able to walk around instead of being stuck on a ship, even if Pentos is not his favorite city—he much prefers Braavos and Myr, but it's more a personal taste rather than any flaws found in Pentos. Regardless, walking through the streets, seeing and talking to people, discovering new places—he loves it. _I can't wait to find out what Westeros has to offer. Is it as colorful as the Free Cities?_

At night, in his chambers, he tries to get his firebending to work. As much as Jon and Illyrio insist he should only bend when he gets on his way to Westeros, he disagrees. Being a strong firebender will cement his claim and show the people the king can defend himself. If he is weak and the Usurper calls for a fight, he will perish just like his father. Besides, if Daenerys is a firebender like Mopatis claims, her claim may be favored over his. _I'm eighteen, I should be almost a master by now._ Essos is full of non-Targaryen firebenders, so why must _he_ hide his away? He isn't craven.

However, try as he might, he can't make any of the men tell him how to release his chi. _Perhaps I should take matters into my own hands. Yes, tomorrow I'll look for chi releasers in the city._

Just as he begins to plan his itinerary, though, he feels _something_ running through his fingers. It's like a strong wind knocking him down. Startled, he jumps from his chair and looks at his hands. At first, he sees nothing, but then _something_ comes again, and he notices tiny sparks from his fingers.

_Sparks? Is this supposed to happen with firebending?_

It doesn't feel right to associate it with _fire_ , but, before he can dwell on that, the sparks come again. He feels an uneasiness growing in him. _I need to get out of this room_ , he thinks without really thinking as he stands up abruptly and leaves.

As he runs, he begins to feel that _something_ coming more and more, each time stronger than the previous one. As he makes it to the gardens, he raises his hands to his eyes again, and there is no mistake this time.

 _Lightning_ is what is coming from his fingers. Not fire.

 _This is why my chi was blocked. I'm not a firebender, but a lightningbender._ It should be absurd, but the thought washes over him with a sense of rightness and certainty. It's like he found an answer to a question he didn't know to be asking until now.

Tentatively, he raises his right hand to the sky, pointing two fingers at the moon. As if only waiting for him to make that exact move, a big lightning ray emerges, and a strondous thunder is heard.

However, it is not enough for his body; he's gone way too long without bending, and now all this energy must come out _now_. He raises his other hand in the same way, and simply _looks_.

Lightning and thunder, lightning and thunder, lightning and thunder… it's like watching a spectacle, and he'd be much more awed if the implications of this discovery weren't hanging above his head.

 _I can't be Aegon VI Targaryen if I bend lightning. Aegon was the son of a firebender and a sandbender. Lightningbending is not found in Westeros since the last Blackfyre Rebellion. Who_ am _I, if not Aegon Targaryen?_

All he knows now is that he's lived a lie. Illyrio fooled him, and so did Jon and Lemore. Did _all of them_ know the truth? Or had they fallen for this farce as well? Who knows his true identity?

It feels like hours pass until he finally feels empty of more rays to throw up in the sky. He falls on his knees. He can barely think at the moment, only the thoughts that have been running through his head while bending. _Who am I? Who knows? Who lied to me? Why?_

He feels a hand on his shoulder. He turns; it's Jon. He looks horrorified. "Have you known this for long?"

He frowns at the man's harsh tone. "What? That I bend lightning?"

" _Yes_ ", he hisses. "You are not Aegon Targaryen. You cannot be."

He feels the sparks coming again. "And you think I _knew_ this before today? Hells, I've never _bent_ before today!" He stands up with newfound strength. "My chi has always been blocked, remember? If any of us could have known that, it'd be _you_ , who took me as a baby!"

Jon's face is now confused. "I met you when you were four years old", he states. "Varys and Illyrio approached me and told me you were Rhaegar's son. You looked so much like him—you still do—that I believed it without question, and never got suspicious when they told me they had your chi blocked for your protection."

"The _hell_ it was for my protection", he all but shouts. "It was for _their farce's_ protection, not mine." He inhales. "Where are Illyrio and Lemore? We've got to speak to them _now_."

"It's near dawn, Aegon", he says dryly.

"Then they won't be too bothered by being woken up only a couple hours earlier. Let's find them."

Jon sighs, but nods. "I need answers as well."

* * *

Lemore is as shocked as Jon when he shows her his fingers sparkling. Illyrio, however, is unmoved.

"I guess there is no way to hide anymore", he says, too calmly for the situation. "No, you are not Aegon Targaryen. The last lightningbender Targaryen was Aegon IV."

"I am aware of that", he retorts. "The question is, _who am I_? And _why_ did you pose me as Aegon?"

"Those are two questions", the old man replies, "but I shall answer both." He takes a deep breath. "I'm sure you know all about House Blackfyre and its attempts at seizing the throne. The last one ended with the extinction of the male line—but not the female line. Some Blackfyre women ran away to Essos; they kept their house bloodline going on, although anonymously.

"Years ago, I met Serra in Lys. She only disclosed her surname and family line after we got married, but she had enough evidence for me to believe her. My Serra died less than a year after giving birth to you. Then, not long later, the Targaryen regime fell, and a Baratheon rose in its place.

"Varys came to me one day. He is also a Blackfyre descendant, you see. He got his chi blocked when he became an eunuch, but he bends lightning just like you. He saw the death of the Targaryens as the perfect opportunity to finally give the Iron Throne to a Blackfyre. Of course, how could I pass up an opportunity like this? My son on the Iron Throne, finally fulfilling his House's destiny.

"As you looked so much like the deceased Aegon, we decided to pass you up as him. Of course, we had to block your bending, so it wouldn't be revealed until you were already crowned, making it too late for anyone to contest your claim. Then we did our best to raise you to be the king Westeros needs.

"Jon was not originally part of the plan, but when he fell under our radar, we took advantage of it. No one, not even Varys, knew Rhaegar as well as he did. We knew he'd inject the prince's values and character in you. Obviously, we told him the lie. It'd make no sense for him to know the truth. The same applies for Lemore. Both were kept in the dark."

There are a thousand things Aegon wants to tell him, one angrier and crueler than the next, but he settles on, "Well, I hate to break it to you then, but your plan has failed. _I_ won't live this lie anymore. I won't take a throne I have no right to. Westeros was conquered by _firebenders_ , and by _firebenders_ it shall be ruled. Aegon IV should never have taken the crown back then, and his bastard heirs are no contenders for the throne. _I_ have no claim to it, and I won't pretend I do, not anymore." He stands up. "Don't ever expect me to call you 'father'. You had your chance at fatherhood, but threw away in exchange for a false power. Jon is the closest to a father I've ever had, and I'll always remember him and Lemore fondly, but you won't have a place in my memory. Goodbye."

He turns around to leave when he hears Illyrio's voice. "You have nowhere to go if you leave", he says. "No home, no name."

"My name is Aegon Blackfyre", he replies sternly. "And I will find my own home."

* * *

The sun is already up when he finishes packing. He and Jon already bid their farewells by then.

"Now that there is no king to reinstate, I'm thinking of going back to Griffin's Roost", he told him. "I had thought of finding Daenerys—bring Rhaegar's sister back home, at least—but I'm too old and tired for this."

He shrugged and hugged his foster father. "Thank you", he whispers, "for everything."

"It has been my pleasure", he replied. "You'll have a place with me, Aegon. If you ever need me, find me, and I'll be there for you."

He smiled. "It goes both ways. I pray we'll meet again soon in better circumstances."

"We will. Find your path, and I'll find mine. We'll see each other soon, I'm sure, as new men."

Now he is looking for his septa, for a similar goodbye. She is nowhere to be found in the mansion, though. _Well, time to look in the gardens._

And there she is. As he approaches the familiar figure of Septa Lemore, he frowns at her position. She's crouched down at the grass, hands on the ground. Her hair is no longer covered, falling down her shoulders—it's black and straight, with tiny waves at the end.

When he gets close enough, he sees red spots on the green grass of the garden. It erupts smoothly, almost like bubbles. It takes a few moments for him to understand what is happening in front of him—and _who_ is making it happen.

_I wonder whose secret is bigger: mine, or Lemore's?_

"You are not a septa", he whispers, "are you?"

If she is surprised to hear him, she doesn't show. Instead, she simply stands up to face him. Her violet eyes and pale face contrast her newly revealed hair. "No", she whispers back. "I'm not. My name is—"

He shakes his head and places a finger on her mouth. "I know", he replies, because he _does_. Jon's stories gave him enough description to recognize her. "It's not safe to say it out loud here, though." He doesn't trust Illyrio to not use this information against any of them.

She smiles. "You're right." She grabs her hair scarf and covers her hair back. She's Lemore once again. "Where will you go?"

"I don't know yet", he admits. "Essos is a big place. I'm sure I can find home somewhere. What about you? Are you going back to Westeros with Jon?"

She shakes her head. "He even offered to wed me if I wanted to stay with a friend", she says, "but no. It's still unsafe for me to go back there." She sighs. "I'm not entirely sure of where I'll go either."

He places a hand on her shoulder. "I'd offer to go along. Figure out where to go together. But… I think it's better if we part ways."

She nods and goes to hug him. "Be safe, Aegon. And remember, being a Blackfyre doesn't change who you are inside. Doesn't change the fact that you are a good man with a kind soul. Never forget this."

He hugs her back tightly. "Thank you. We shall meet again one day. I'm sure of it."

With that, he breaks the hug, grabs his bag—where Blackfyres rests, covered under two layers of clothes—and leaves through the mansion's gates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was the last of four chapters tightly related to each other. Now that all of them are out, let me summarize the most important things of these chapters for you:  
> In cp 22 (Cersei II), Daenerys hatched three dragon eggs. Shortly after that:  
> \- Jon managed to activate his Avatar State, although by accident (cp 23, Ygritte I)  
> \- Edric Dayne mysteriously lost control of his lavabending, leading to Starfall being drowned in lava (cp 24, Tyrion III)  
> \- Aegon suddenly released his chi and discovered he bends lightning, not fire (this chapter)  
> These events are all connected, although the explanation won't come right away. Things will be revealed slowly, and the characters themselves need to piece these events together to realize how they are connected.  
> Feel free to take guesses! If you want to know the answers NOW, I'll tell you. (If you like to read fanfic comments, don't worry, I'll place spoiler warnings). Also, any guesses on who Septa Lemore is? I don't think it's that hard to figure out, but it made sense not to reveal her name right away.  
> The next chapter will take a while to be posted because, honestly, I haven't decided yet which storyline I'll get back to first xD


	26. Arya II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned Starks is confronted about Jon, and Arya's life take a surprise turn.

If she thinks really hard about it, she can see things did not fall apart all at once, but day by day, ever since Father's first quarrel with King Robert. However, the last drop feels like the whole fall.

"I should have known", King Robert snarls, "when you defended the Targaryen bitch and her baby, that you were a traitor all along."

Sansa tightens her grip in Arya's hand, although she knows it is not for comfort. It's to prevent Arya from charging at the king and making everything worse.

Her father frowns, but that's the only sign of anger in his face. "I've fought by your side for years", he reminds his (former?) friend. "I've done everything you've asked of me. And you throw this all away for _rumours_?"

Baelish steps ahead, with his permanent smirk in place. "You dare accuse your good sister, wife of your late foster father, of _lying_?"

Father doesn't miss a beat. "I don't know what made Lysa Arryn write to you claiming that she hosted 'Jon Fyre, son of Rhaegar Targaryen posing as Eddard Stark's bastard, the self-proclaimed Avatar reborn', but I assure you, the only Jon that I've taken to my home was a _Frost_. My bastard son, born out of a lapse in honor fifteen years ago."

Queen Margaery is sitting far from her husband, hands firmly pressed on her swollen stomach and her mouth in a thin line. She remembers that she talked her husband into accepting Father back in the role of Hand of the King. Is she afraid to be implicated in whatever scheme Robert thinks her father is in?

She is distracted from her thoughts by Littlefinger's reply. "We have all heard the rumours of the Avatar reborn. Many claim him to be the Kingslayer, but it is reportedly known Jaime Lannister has metalbent since he was a newborn, and all prophecies regarding the Avatar claim they'd be reborn among _firebenders_. Isn't that right, Maester Pycelle?"

The old man straightens himself up. "That is correct, my lord. From the Faith of the Seven to the legends of the far east, it is said the next Avatar would be born a firebender. The reasons behind such an assumption are nebulous, but it is a constant in Avatar legends."

Baelish's smirk widens. "See? It cannot be a coincidence. Now, there are reports of a boy firebending in the riverlands. A boy with the _Stark_ look. And I've learned, from reliable sources, that Jon Frost hasn't been seen in the North for moons—Winterfell, the Wall, or otherwise."

"I admit I haven't asked my lady wife after Jon for a while", her father says. "However, even if my son truly left the North, it means little. Jon has been a _non bender_ for all of his life. If he somehow has unlocked some Avatar powers, this awakening happened _after_ I left for King's Landing. There is nothing that suggests he has Targaryen blood."

"Lady Lysa's letter says that Jon himself told her stories about growing up in the Wall under Maester Aemon's tutelage. Do you deny it?"

"I've taken all of my children to regular trips to the Wall over the years, to visit their uncle Benjen. My daughters can attest to that."

Arya nods emphatically, and Sansa even speaks up. "Jon never bent in front of us. Actually, he always seemed to _envy_ our bending, even if a little. I doubt he'd waste an opportunity to show off if he suddenly came to bend any element."

That does not seem to sway the king off. "Lysa Arryn has written several letters over the last months about the Avatar", he says, and Father's startled reaction tells her he hasn't been privy to this before today. "Over time, her concern only grew, until the last one came saying that the Avatar attacked her men and fled her home."

_What?_ Arya can't hide her horror, and neither can Sansa. Her father merely keeps his frowns in place. "My son may be a bastard", he says, slowly, "but he was raised alongside his trueborn siblings, and would never do such a thing. Every single member of my family and Winterfell's household can attest to it, and so can all members of the Night's Watch who have met him over the years. Lady Lysa's attacker is a pretender."

"If your boy is innocent", the king replies, "he can come and testify. For now, Ned, you are under arrest. You are to stay in your chambers and not leave without a royal guard following you. No messages will get to you without previous inspection. The same applies to your daughters."

Silence. Nobody protests the king's decision, and so all three of them are escorted back to their rooms. Sansa holds her shoulder tightly all the way, especially when they meet Queen Margaery's worried face.

Inside their room, neither sister says a word, afraid of being heard. Instead, they hug each other to sleep, unsure of what the next days have in store for them.

* * *

Four tense days later, Queen Margaery invites the two sisters for tea in the gardens. Sansa whispers to Arya that she rarely holds tea parties without her grandmother, and Lady Olenna is due to arrive in a whole fortnight.

The queen comes to collect them herself and leads them to a secluded corner. "You can stay over there, brother", she tells Ser Loras, who nods at them and leaves them be. There are three cups of tea and a single teapot. None of the queen's ladies are with them. Still, Arya prefers to wait for Margaery to speak up first.

After filling their cups, she starts. "My husband made your father write a letter to Winterfell", she tells them quietly, "summoning Jon Frost and your mother to testify—and that all of you will be sent to the dungeons should either of them fail to show up." She takes a sip of tea. "We all know Jon is not in Winterfell, though, nor at the Wall. He won't even receive the missive."

Neither sister dares reply. She continues. "You know I've spoken to my husband to keep your father as his Hand, back when they fought. I'm not… Whoever Jon is, whatever he does, I'm inclined to believe he is not a threat to the Iron Throne. If he truly is the Avatar, he cannot even take it, for the Avatar is supposed to be politically neutral. All stories say that."

Again, she is met with silence. She smiles, however. "I know you won't say anything to endanger your brother—or cousin. I'm not asking you to. But I _know_ you are in danger here. All three of you." She fixes her posture. "I don't agree with this. Like your father, I don't like the idea of a kingdom built over the blood of innocents, and I'm against my husband's self-appointed quest to finish off House Targaryen. But Lord Baelish seems eager to turn the two long-time friends against each other, and, rumour or truth, he's been given the perfect opportunity. So hear me out."

She grabs the teapot and fills her own cup. "I may be Queen, but I am only a girl, so there is only so much I can do. I can't sneak all three of you out, but, for now, I can sneak one of you back North." At that, she looks pointedly at Arya.

She blinks. "Me? It's better—"

"You're the best option", Sansa interrupts her.

" _You_ are Father's heir."

" _Robb_ is Father's heir", she reminds her. "I _may_ become heir if Father changes his mind or Robb renounces his rights, but for now I'm only second in line. _Regardless_ , I have better odds to survive at court than you. And _you_ are easier to sneak out. You are small, and you've been taught to move silently. I've seen your lessons with Syrio, remember?"

Yes, she remembers—though she has forgotten her instructor in these last few days.

Margaery nods at Sansa and adds, "I know a woman who works in an orphanage. She can disguise you as an orphan and deliver you to a captain in a ship to White Harbour. You will probably have to work there for the entire journey, but once you arrive at the city, you can go to Lord Manderly and ask for protection."

Arya takes a deep breath. "Can you really trust this woman?"

"Yes", she says firmly. "And I can also trust Lord Varys."

She blinks, and Sansa startles. "Are you _sure_ you can trust the Spider?", her sister asks.

The queen smirks. "I have leverage against him", she whispers.

Arya appraises Margaery with newfound respect—it's not everyday someone can find anything to use against the Master of Whisperers, after all. Clearly, the queen is a lot more than a pretty face and a womb.

"So", she asks, then, "how are things going to be?"

* * *

It is late night when the wall behind Sansa's bed moves to reveal a passage, and Lord Varys standing before them. "Are you ready?", he asks in a whisper. They all must be as silent as a cat.

She nods and hugs her sister goodbye. "Be safe", she whispers to Sansa.

"You too", she whispers back as she breaks the hug.

As quietly as possible, she follows Varys through the tunnels. There are a hundred questions she'd ask him—what does Queen Margaery have on him? Is it the only reason he's helping us? Does he have news on her father?—but she knows it's not the time or place for them.

A dark-haired woman awaits for them at the end of the tunnels. The moon hangs low in the sky, and the purple of the early morning threatens to show. "The captain is to leave within the hour", she warns them. "We must part ways now."

Varys warns her to be careful and not trust anyone until she arrives in White Harbor, then hands her to the woman as he retreats inside the castle. The woman, who hurriedly introduces herself as Jodee, takes her arm and drags her to the port. The captain, a red-bearded bald man who calls himself Zhao, greets them and tells them there is a collective cabin down the stairs.

Wait. "Are you not going back to the orphanage?", she asks Jodee in a whisper.

The woman does not answer until they reach said cabin, which is still empty. Then, "I run no orphanage, girl", she reveals, her accent suddenly changing to a rather familiar one. "When Syrio heard that a girl and her family have gone under arrest, Syrio searched for the queen to free the girl."

She blinks. "W-what?" Syrio has arranged for her escape?

"Yes. A girl is important for things to come."

Before Arya can ask what Jodee means, the woman turns around for a moment. When she turns back to her, it's no longer Jodee.

It's Syrio.

Arya trips and falls back, her butt hitting the wall behind her. "W-what?"

Syrio grins. "A girl is not going to White Harbor", he announces. "A girl is going to Braavos, to become no one she imagines being."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want a clue on what Varys' secret is, check the last chapter.  
> We get back to Jon & Co. in the next chapter. Tensions only get higher!


	27. Jon V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon, Ygritte and Jaime decide to go to Dorne. It doesn't go so well.

When he wakes up, Ygritte tells him he's been out for a whole day, and Jaime says he threw them off the Eyrie for them to land in the middle of the riverlands, likely somewhere between Saltpans and Harrenhal.

"We should sail straight to Dorne", he advises. "We don't know what happened in the Eyrie after we left. For all we know we are all wanted by the Vale—or even the Crown."

"Will we be safe in Dorne?"

"Supposedly, yes. The Martells hold no love for Robert, as far as I know. The only other safe place would be the West, but there is use going there."

Ygritte, of course, has no way of giving input in this, so he trusts Jaime's words. "Where to, now?"

He sighs. "I was thinking of Saltpans, or Maidenpool. Both places have ports and ships—maybe not straight to Dorne, but if we manage to avoid King's Landing, it's enough. We cannot linger too long here, or in the crownlands, or even in the stormlands."

He nods. "I suppose the Reach is out of question, too." Ygritte once told them that she heard the king married a plantbender, and Jaime found that yes, it was a Tyrell.

"Yes. I'm afraid you will have to go to Essos to finish your training." Jaime sighs again. "I won't be able to follow you, if it truly comes to that. There is no viable excuse for a member of the Night's Watch to leave Westeros. It will be hard to explain my presence in Dorne already."

"You should disguise yourself", Ygritte warns. "From what I've seen, you're easily recognizable in this realm, and all rumours of the Avatar mention you in one way or another."

All three of them laugh almost instantly, remembering all the crazy stories they've heard about Jaime supposedly being the Avatar. "You're right, Ygritte", Jaime says when their laugh dies out. "I was thinking of having my hair dyed, or shaved off. I've grown this beard for a reason, but I fear it won't be enough to disguise me if I keep my trademark golden hair."

They break their fast and discuss which direction to take. Jaime may be the one who knows Westeros the best out of them, but even he is unsure on how to get to Saltpans—the destination they end up picking due to Maidenpool's know relations with the Vale (according to the knight, there are even airbenders in the town).

"Let's just walk", Ygritte suggests, huffing impatiently after a whole hour of talking and making no decision. "We will end up somewhere at some point, and then we'll find out which direction we're supposed to take to get to Saltpans."

Jaime doesn't like that idea, but after another hour of not coming up with a better one, he accepts defeat. As they pack their things, he asks Jon, "Do you have any idea of what happened in the Eyrie?"

He sighs and shakes his head. "I don't remember anything", he replies, resignedly. "I've tried to ever since I woke up, but nothing comes. My last memory is hearing Mya scream Ygritte's name. Whatever happened to me was likely triggered by that."

The knight nods. "You were bending two elements at once", he supplies. "You and I both know you've never done such a thing before. Could it be some… Avatar special ability?"

"I wish I knew. Maester Aemon never mentioned anything of the sort. If it is, it's some secret power the previous Avatars didn't share with the general public."

"Or it got lost with time", he offers, "just like the names of the previous Avatars."

He nods. It's a real possibility. _What else could be lost? What more new things will I discover?_

He glances at Ygritte. When Jaime mentioned Essos, he noticed her flinch. Jon has always suspected he'd go to the other continent at some point, but at first he only thought of learning lightningbending—an ability that was unlikely to be urgent, so perhaps he could become a fully realized Avatar without mastering it. But now he had to go there to find plant and earthbenders willing to train him, since Westerosi teachers are no longer an option. Bloodbenders too, since he doubts he'll be able to get to the Iron Islands without risking his safety.

He's never mentioned it to Ygritte though—at least, not in any way that implied he'd go there. She isn't ready for it, but he's sure she will warm up to the idea in time. There is still Dorne to go to.

They walk for a few hours with little change of scenery. Jon asks Jaime for stories of his time in the riverlands, but the man doesn't have many. "The longest time I've ever spent here was in the tourney where your mother was crowned Queen of Love and Beauty", he tells him. "And I didn't even see that. Aerys sent me to King's Landing as soon as I was made Kingsguard. Pity; I wish I had seen all the drama your father caused."

He says the last sentence jokingly, but something in his voice speaks of resentment. Jon remembers their early days, back when he just rescued him from execution. Jaime joined the Kingsguard not only for honor and glory, but for his sister-lover. Aerys ended up depriving him of all three. Not for the first time, he feels an urge to ask _why exactly_ he killed his grandfather, but fear of the answer stopped him, once again, from doing so.

"What about when you fought the Smiling Knight?", he asks instead.

Jaime shakes his head. "It was near the capital. If we were in the crownlands, I could certainly point to you exactly where it happened."

They find a place to rest near midday. "I think we are near Harrenhal", Jaime announces.

"How can you tell?", Jon asks. "This all looks the same to me." Ygritte voices her agreement with him.

"I can't describe it", he replies. "It just seems familiar."

They make camp in order to eat, but Ygritte suddenly calls them. "Jon, Jaime", she says, and he knows she's worried when she doesn't use 'Sisterfucker' to address the knight. "Look at this."

Jon crouches down at the tree hole she's pointing at. There is an open bag from which he can see some metallic arrows and the tip of a metallic ball. Jaime reaches for the bag and opens it. "A set of bow and arrows, and a morningstar", he declares as he takes one of the arrows off.

Ygritte grabs it and inspects it. "Who would carry _metallic_ arrows?", she wonders aloud.

"Metalbenders", Jaime replies instantly. "A metal arrow is a bendable one for us." He frowns. "But most metalbenders are swordsmen, not archers. Who could this belong to…?"

If Jaime can't figure out, Jon won't even try. "Whoever this is", he points out, "something happened to them. This looks to be inside that hole for days, and no one would just leave this kind of thing behind."

"No, no one would", he agrees quietly, grabbing the arrow Ygritte is holding and putting it back inside the bag. "We should put it back in the hole, just in case they come back. If I could make out _who_ is the owner—"

He is interrupted by the sound of footsteps. He shoves the bag to the hole just as a group of men approaches them. "Well, well, look what we have here, boys", one of them says, laughing menacingly. "The Kingslayer Avatar and his troupe. Say, how much do you think we can get for those three?"

"Their weight in gold, I hope", another replies.

Jon, Jaime and Ygritte exchange brief glances. There is no use arguing with whoever they are. Jaime draws his sword—for he's always carrying it on his side—while Ygritte reaches for her bow and Jon prepares for bending.

He doesn't charge, though. Before he can do it, he feels a pressure on his head, and then darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter picks up right after this one, through Jaime's POV.


	28. Jaime IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did you come here through the Jaime/Brienne tag? Oh hey, they FINALLY MEET!  
> (Also, plot happens.)

When he opens his eyes, it takes several blinks for him to remember what happened.

Just as he was about to charge at the men who wanted to kidnap them, Jon fell unconscious. He barely had the time to see what happened—a third man had knocked him out from behind with the pommel of his sword—when a bunch of other men showed up from all sides, surrounding them. At that moment, he finally recognized the sigil on their breastplates. House Clegane. He and Ygritte gave their best, but in the end they were subdued as well. He doesn't know how they knocked him out, but since he has no recollection of being dragged around, he assumes to have been.

Slowly, he gathers around his surroundings. He is in a damp cell, with no bedrolls or… anything, really. There is only one more body, which he quickly notices is Jon, who is still breathing, much to his relief.

It hurts to move, and his arms _and_ legs are tied up, but he manages to turn to his left. He is met with black bars and, across him, another cell. He can make out two silhouettes moving. "Ygritte?", he calls.

"Sisterfucker", she calls back. _Oh good, she's fine._ She wouldn't call him 'sisterfucker' if she was too anxious. "Is Jon with you?"

"Yes. Unconscious, but alive. Is there anyone else with you?"

It is the second person who answers. "Yes." It's a female voice. "Are you Jaime Lannister?"

Her voice carries a strong accent that reminds him of a stormlander. "Yes, I am. Who would you be, my lady?"

"I'm no lady", she replies immediately, as if by instinct. "My name is Brienne of Tarth."

Brienne of Tarth… _Of course! Tarth is known for its archers, and House Tarth is a metalbender one! That bag must have been hers. Better not to ask that here, though._ Instead, he says, "I do believe you are a lady, since you are highborn." She scoffs, but doesn't retort. "My lady", he calls again, "would you tell us where we are?"

"Harrenhal", she replies, confirming his suspicions. "You were thrown here a few hours ago."

"Thank you. But pray tell, how did _you_ end up here? Were you alone?"

"I wasn't alone when I was captured", she replies, slowly. "But I'm the only one whose ransom was seemingly not enough."

She sounds so resigned, it makes him flinch. He knows House Tarth is not exactly rich, but shouldn't her father give them his best offer to have her released? "But what happened that you were captured in the first place?"

It takes a short while for her to answer. "What do you know about Gregor Clegane's whereabouts, Ser?"

He frowns. "Last I heard, he was in King's Landing, serving King Robert." He is not surprised to know Lannister bannermen left the capital after he and Cersei were punished for their crimes, but how in the world did the Mountain end up in Harrenhal?

Lady Brienne wastes no time providing him an answer. "Ser Gregor mysteriously wedded Lady Jonquil Whent shortly after he and his brother were kicked out of King's Landing. Her mother sent letters to Riverrun and Storm's End, asking for aid. The first party that came to investigate was kidnapped, and one lord has been declared dead ever since. I was at the second party, and we were all taken captive as well. It's been… a fortnight, or a little less. The others were either freed for ransom or killed for sport. I'm the only one left."

Her tone implies her survival is not exactly a good thing. It sends shivers down his spine. "Were you—"

"No", she replies, understanding his question before he can finish it. "Not yet, at least."

"You won't be", Ygritte says ferociously. "I won't let you."

"Neither will I", he adds firmly. "As soon as Jon wakes up, we will find a way out. You metalbend, don't you, my lady?" She mumbles a 'yes'. "Great. Ygritte doesn't bend, but she's resourceful, and Jon… well, you'll see."

"I think", she replies, "I can guess what he is. Have you heard of your new nickname? Aside from… sisterfucker."

He chuckles. "Kingslayer Avatar? Yes, I've heard. I assure you, my lady, those rumours couldn't be further from the truth."

"But you hesitate to tell me what Jon bends", she counters, though not unkindly. "Don't worry, they don't bother guarding us here. They come twice a day, usually to taunt and threaten me, but for most of the time I'm—we're—all alone."

A short silence. "Jon is the Avatar, yes", he finally says. "We… Ygritte and I are traveling with him across Westeros so he can be taught all elements. I don't really know how those rumours started, though I have a few suspicions, but I honestly don't know why we are being so antagonized lately."

"What do you mean? Is this not the first time you are attacked?"

"We were just thrown off the Eyrie", Ygritte explains. "And by 'thrown off', I mean that Jon airbent us away and sent us flyin' until we fell in the middle of the forest."

For several moments, Lady Brienne seems to have nothing to answer to that—which is understandable, come to think of it. It's not everyday you hear that people are sent flying from a castle, even if from the Vale.

Jaime is still curious about why the lady was the one to engage on this rescue mission, but he decides learning about their future routine is more urgent—they must figure out a way to escape, after all. So, he proceeds to ask her precisely about that.

* * *

Before Jon wakes up, they are visited by Clegane's men. Jaime tries to use his Lannister name to convince them to set all four of them free, but they simply tell him he can't possibly have access to his family's money now that he is on the Night's Watch, so his words mean nothing.

"As for the cow", one of them spats, "we will only release her when we receive her weight in gold… or sapphires."

For a moment, he is confused about who 'the cow' is, but his answer comes through Lady Brienne's voice. "I told you", she says, clearly irritated, "Tarth is called Sapphire Isle for the colors of its waters. There are no such stones there. We sell _marble_."

"A shame, then", another man replies. "It seems y'all be stuck here for some time."

"What do you want from us", Jaime asks, "if not my father's money?"

The two men snort. "Our lord wants the _Crown_ 's money, not Tywin's. Our good ol' King Robert is looking for ya, Avatar, even if he seems to believe you are a Targaryen."

"What?"

"Ya heard me right. The king put in his head that the Avatar was reborn as a Targaryen. Can't see to tell the difference between lion and dragon, heh. No matter. If you're not the Avatar, it's either the girl or the boy. All three worth a ton of gold. And some good ol' fun while we're at it…"

He says the last sentence lavisciously, and though the darkness makes it impossible for him to see him properly, he is sure he's looking at Ygritte and Brienne. He clenches his jaw in rage, frustrated he can do nothing in his current state. _Jon, wake up soon_ , he sort-of prays. _You are the only one who can be of use chained._

Both Jaime and Brienne need their hands free to metalbend, and Ygritte also needs to be unchained in order to fight, but Jon can firebend with his mouth. After the men finally leave them alone again, he tells the women that. "If he wakes up well enough, he can breathe fire until the bars melt, and he can also melt my chains. Once that is done, I can metalbend all of us free, and we run."

"We must find a way to get our weapons back", Ygritte adds. "I need my arrows, and there is only so much you two can do without your swords to bend."

"We must get to Lady Whent as well", Brienne insists. "Her mother is reportedly dead, and gods know how Jonquil is faring under Clegane. I can't, in good conscience, abandon her here."

Both of them are right, though Jaime does not yet know how to get to either their weapons or to Lady Jonquil. Although he has visited Harrenhal once, he didn't spend enough time in the castle to be familiar with it. Brienne can't help him in that regard, as this is her first time in the riverlands in general.

His thoughts are interrupted when he hears Ygritte ask the lady, "Why did they call you 'cow'?"

Brienne seems to hesitate. "When we leave these cells", she finally says, "you will see me. I'm nothing much to look at—actually, I'm rather unsightly. It is probably why these men taunt me but don't really touch me. If that's the case, I'm rather grateful to be ugly."

He very much doubts the lady is as ugly as she implies to be. Alright, there are ugly women, and Lady Brienne may be one of the unfortunate ones, but to be comparable to a _cow_?

Ygritte seems to agree with him. "You seem to be tall and big", she tells her, unknowingly informing him of a few of her features. "Muscular, too. I can't make out your face, but your body alone does not seem to be _unsightly_. There are women with your body type among the Free Folk, and they are highly sought after."

Jaime decides to interfere. "I doubt you look worse than your cellmate", he tells her. "Ygritte looks like she broke her entire face at least once in each of the Seven Kingdoms."

"And you look like you've been thrown off every single castle of the Seven Kingdoms", the wildling retorts, although her tone makes it clear she knows he was jesting.

"I am glad to inform you the Eyrie was the first castle I was actually thrown off", he says proudly. "I may have been kicked out of Winterfell and King's Landing, but it was a lot more courteously than the farewell Lady Arryn granted us. Actually, why don't we entertain Lady Brienne with the story of our delightful stay in the Vale? I'd bet she's confused about this talk of ours."

At Ygritte's inquiry, Brienne confirms she _is_ confused by their tales, so they spend the next hour telling her all about Lysa's antagonism towards them. Just as Jaime is about to link Robert's beliefs to Baelish's scheming, Jon stirs at his side.

* * *

It takes a while, but Jon finally understands what their plan is. "It will be better if I unchain you first, Jaime", he tells him. "Perhaps we can bend the bars apart together."

"Cell bars are usually made of metal, earth and ice", he reminds him. "I'm not sure your earthbending is developed enough for the job."

"I've trained a bit with Mya."

"Even so, it may not be enough. But we'll only know when we get you unchained, so do your work."

With difficulty, Jon crawls closer as Jaime turns around so his back is facing him. "I warn you", Jon says, "this will probably hurt. And scar."

"Still better than to remain chained. Go on, I'll behave."

He hears Jon inhaling, and then he feels warmth around his wrists. It gets progressively warmer, until it's so hot he has to bite his tongue to avoid making too much noise. Finally, it stops. "Shake your hands off so the rest of the chains will fall", Jon advises.

He follows the advice, and soon his hands are completely free. He smiles as he moves his fingers and clenches his fists, then turns to Jon. He grabs his chains and, with three moves, bends them broken. He does the same to the chains around their feet. "Now let's check these bars", he says, turning to do exactly that.

As he predicted, the bars are not made purely of metal, though it is the material that covers them. Jon takes hold of two and tightens his hands around them. Jaime cannot see what he is doing, but eventually they are pulled apart far enough that the two can leave their cell. He flinches at the noise he makes with that action, but lets it slide; they are out, and that's what matters.

It's quick work to free Ygritte and Brienne, but just as they begin to walk out of the dungeons, they hear footsteps. "They must have heard you bend the bars apart", he whispers to Jon.

"Well", he replies, "now we have nothing to hide. Leave them to me and _run_."

At those words, fire emerges from his hands. He can finally make out everyone's faces—Brienne's is all freckled, he notices before grabbing both women's hands and running past the guards as Jon fires at them. Most are distracted trying to not get burned, but two men in the back charge at the three of them. Jaime shouts for the women to run and proceeds to attack them with his bare hands—after all, what kind of Kingsguard would he have been if he relied on his bending alone?

It's hard to fight in near complete darkness, but he can tell he manages to knock a man unconscious before the other bites his right hand. He shouts in pain, but recomposes himself enough to kick his balls and punch his forehead with the left hand. He raises his injured hand to his chest as he runs out.

He expected to be blinded by sunlight, but thankfully it's nighttime. He can't see Brienne—or rather, he can't see anyone tall and freckled enough to be her—but catches sight of Ygritte. "Brienne went to get the lady", she tells him. "Let's get our weapons!"

Some more men attack them on their way—not many, for most seem to be either asleep or drunk—but they manage to either knock them out or outrun them, despite Jaime's pain on his hand. He points at the armory and tells Ygritte they should check there first.

Thankfully, he is right in his guessing. Jon's Longclaw is there, along with Ygritte's bow and arrow, his lion-pommel sword and a third one marked with sunbursts—it must be Brienne's, if he recalls Tarth's sigil correctly. He suppresses a painful moan as he uses both hands to get old of the common swords, while Ygritte gets her weapons and Jon's.

They go back to the open yard to find Jon panting. Ygritte calls him and throws his sword at him, and Jaime urges them to find Brienne and Lady Jonquil. As if just waiting for his word, a scream pierces through the night.

"It comes from the second floor!", Jon exclaims. "Lady Brienne and Lady Jonquil must be there!"

Jaime does not need to be told twice. He doesn't want to imagine what may be happening, if Brienne found Jonquil with the Mountain. Turning around, he finds a set of stairs nearby and climbs it as quickly as he can, not caring if the others are following him.

At this point, at least half of the castle is awake, but the soldiers are still slow from just waking up, so it is easier than expected to cut them off. He is also slower, thanks to his injury and the fact that both hands are busy carrying swords, but the high of the moment makes him more alert than his opponents. A second scream guides him to the corridor where it comes from.

After slicing a man's ear off, he finally gets to a half-open door. He pushes it to find Jonquil Whent standing on her bed, while the Mountain has Brienne tackled to the floor.

Clegane is wearing _armor and helmet_. _Was he sleeping with armor on, or fucking Lady Whent with it?_ He doesn't really want to know. He only wants to finish the man off and escape.

He throws Brienne's sword to the floor and himself at the Mountain. The impact hurts his injured hand, but he manages to free Brienne from the man's hold. With a grunt, Clegane pins him down, grabs his right wrist and takes his sword off his hand—actually, he nearly takes his _hand_ off. He lets out a painful cry, which is silenced by a punch.

He hears a sword clashing against the metal, but he's too busy blocking other punches and sword strokes to pay attention to it. He feels a sharp pain somewhere, but then suddenly hears someone—Jon?—shouting, "Ygritte, grab Lady Jonquil and run!"

Then, he is lifted off the floor. Faintly, he feels wind under his back, which makes him realize he's on an airball. Clegane loses his balance and falls off him, and Jaime rolls to the other side, falling on the bed. Brienne launches herself at the beastly man—fuck, she _is_ tall and big—and Jon throws fire balls at him, trying to melt his armor.

 _No, there is a better way. Jon may not yet be able to do it, but I_ am _a master metalbender._ Raising both hands—because he will need all of his power for an armor this big—he flexes and stretches his fingers, doing his best to ignore the pain and the strange warmth on his left shoulder as the Mountain's armor bends piece by piece. After enough times doing it, the man grunts in pain and places a hand on his belly. Satisfied, he goes for the helmet. "This is for Elia", he shouts as the upper half of the helmet bends in an odd angle. "This is for Rhaenys", he shouts as the bottom part also bends, seemingly piercing the neck if the falling blood is any indication. "And this is for Aegon", he shouts as, in an abrupt move that threatens to break his right hand, he manages to crumple the rest of the helmet, which prompts Clegane to fall down.

As he finally lets himself breathe properly, the world starts to spin. He hears Brienne shout his name, and he's fairly sure the pair of arms he feels catching him before darkness takes over him is hers.

* * *

He feels like he opened and closed his eyes a couple times while being carried—he vaguely remembers the ups and downs that come with being on someone's arms or back—but, when he definitely wakes up, he's lying on grass. He is greeted by Jon's voice. "Oh, Jaime, you're awake!", he exclaims as he kneels next to him. "You've been in and out for hours. We thought you were going to die, with the amount of blood you've lost."

"Blood?" He doesn't remember being injured to the point of bleeding. Then, as if to answer him, a sharp pain courses through his left shoulder, and he winces.

"Clegane's sword punctured your shoulder", he hears Lady Brienne say. He can't see her from where he lies. "And you probably overworked yourself while crumpling his armor and helmet."

"It was a great thing you did, Ser", he hears a female voice say. "I am deeply grateful." _Must be Jonquil Whent._

He tries to sit up, but it hurts too much, so he remains laid down. "Where are we?"

"At the same place we were captured", Jon replies. "Turns out Lady Brienne and her companions were captured here as well. You were right; the weapons bag belongs to a metalbender—it's hers."

He tentatively smiles at that. "Good to know it returned to its owner. How… what happened after I passed out?"

"Most of Clegane's men surrendered when they found out their lord was dead", he hears Brienne explain. "Some even tried to pledge themselves to Lady Jonquil, but she wisely refused them. So far no one has tried to catch us again, though I don't think we will be safe for long."

"Then we must leave now", he concludes. "Help me stand, and I'll be able to walk."

"Nonsense", she replies. "I can carry you on my back."

"Are you sure, my lady?"

"I'm no lady", she says stubbornly, "and I'm strong enough."

Jon nods at something he can't see, then places a hand on his upper back. "Let's get you up so you can wrap yourself around her."

Slowly and painfully, he gets to sit up. Brienne is crouched down, her back facing him—her hair is light blonde, nearly silver, and shorter than his. With Jon's help, he climbs and circles his hands around her neck. Then, she stands up slowly, grabbing his legs and wrapping them around her hips.

In any other circumstances, Jaime would feel mortified at the scene. Not only is he being carried around, he's all wrapped around a noble lady, likely a maiden. However, sore and tired as he is, he's just grateful he doesn't have to be carried by one of Jon's airballs.

Resting his head on her right shoulder as they walk, he takes his time appraising his traveling companions. Jon and Ygritte both look bruised, though not enough to wear them down. He can make out bruises in Brienne's arms as well, but she seems unfazed by carrying him—and he's not exactly a lightweight. Jonquil Whent seems mostly fine, though the shock of the whole situation clearly takes its toll on her.

It seems that he dozes off on the journey, when he suddenly opens his eyes to find himself looking at a small camp. A man wearing torn red robes stands to greet them. "Team Avatar", he calls them, and for a moment he wonders, _where does that name come from_ , "we've been waiting for your arrival. We are the Brotherhood Without Banners."

Another man stands up. "This is Lady Brienne of Tarth", he states, "and Ser Jaime Lannister. You may not know or remember me. I'm Beric of House Dondarrion."

Faintly—he must be about to doze off again—he hears Jonquil say, "I thought you were dead, my lord."

Beric's answer sends a shiver down his spine. "I was, indeed, my lady, but perhaps the Ironborn are right when they 'what is dead may never die'."

He's fairly sure he mutters, "A wight?" before slipping into unconsciousness again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if it feels rushed or anticlimactic. I had initially planning on a five or six-day captivity, but then I realized Jon could free them easily with his firebending.  
> So, with this I mostly finish the Whent-Clegane subplot. At last, it fulfilled its purpose to get Brienne out of the island and meet Jon, Jaime and Ygritte, and to introduce the Brotherhood, which we'll see more of soon.  
> I'm not sure whose chapter is next. I'll either pick up where this one left off, in Jon's POV, or I'll take a small break to look into Bran's. Any preferences?


	29. Brienne II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The newly named Team Avatar meets the Brotherhood Without Banners, has some bonding time and decides their next steps. Important revelations are shared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! And what better way to begin 2021 than with a new chapter?

They are given two tents, one for Jon and Ser Jaime and another for the three women. When Jon leaves his tent after tending to the Kingslayer—after all, being a waterbender means he has healing abilities—Lord Beric introduces them to the other men in the camp: Thoros of Myr, a red priest (the one who called them 'Team Avatar'), a few sellswords who hang around the group while waiting for a better offer, a couple men who escaped Harrenhal before her arrival, a few hedge knights, some camp followers and others who don't fall under any of these categories.

"We've all banded together after Thoros revived me with powers granted by his Lord of Light", Lord Beric tells them. "He's had visions of the Avatar reborn, and of a great battle beyond the Wall. We've gathered men these past months while we wait to meet the Avatar and pledge ourselves to their command. Now, which of you is the Avatar?" He briefly glances at the tent. "Unlike some, we have a hard time believing Jaime Lannister is the one we're looking for."

At her side, Jon Frost laughs. "No, he truly isn't", he replies. "We've been laughing about these rumours for over a month. _I_ am the Avatar reborn, my lord." To prove it, he conjures a fireball with one hand and, shortly after, a snowball with the other. "As for this great battle beyond the Wall… Have you ever heard of the Others?"

When most of the men shake their heads in denial, he proceeds to tell them all (Brienne included) everything he knows about the undead creatures from the Lands of Always Winter, the Long Night and the War for the Dawn, and the little he's learned about the previous Avatars so far.

"After Ser Jaime and I had the first encounter with a wight", he says in the end, "the Night's Watch began to prepare. Abandoned forts are being reinstated, and now they are accepting temporary members, who don't have to say the vows. They are taking women too, although they stay in the Gift with the Free Folk—and yes, the wildling have crossed the Wall. Not all of them, because not everyone wanted to, but most did. Ygritte is one of them."

One of the sellswords, Bronn, lays back against a tree stump. "So, you sayin' we should just go to the Wall then?"

"That's where the fight will be", Jon agrees. "If you truly want to serve me—the Avatar—the best option is to contribute with the war effort there. Already they've lost many people on ranges, according to what I've heard in the Vale." He turns to Lady Jonquil, who's been listening to him with wide eyes. "Although you could help Lady Whent conquer her home back, too, if you feel it to be right."

The young woman lets out a mirthless laugh. "Oh, no, I'm not eager to go back there at all", she tells them. "It never _felt_ like home, even if I grew up there, and now it holds too many bad memories. I'd rather go North with you. I'm a non bender, but I can learn how to fight with a weapon, I think."

Ygritte nods eagerly. "The Free Folk will love to teach you how to wield any weapon—well, maybe not the morningstar. We never had those. But the rest… sword, bow and arrow, spear, pick your own."

Lady Jonquil smiles. "Good to know. If I survive this battle, I'll worry about where to go next. But not before."

Thoros nods slowly, and he and Lord Beric exchange glances. "We will discuss the matter among our men", he announces, "but, as we had intended to find the Avatar to follow their command, I believe they will agree with this course of action. For now, though, I believe all five of you should get proper rest."

" _Yes_ ", Ygritte says. "Sist—Jaime was the one injured the most, but we were all beaten up. And he, Jon and I went through a shitty time right before our capture."

"Well then", Lord Beric says, "feel free to rest as you please."

* * *

At Jon's request, she goes to the men's tent. "You are strong enough to hold him down", he explains right before they enter.

"And why would that be useful?", she asks, slightly worried.

"His hand is broken in several points", he replies, raising the tent's curtain to reveal Ser Jaime lying down on a pallet. "I can heal it, but not all at once, and it's a painful procedure. I've seen Aunt Cat heal broken bones. It's not pretty."

Brienne has never seen the Tarth healers caring for broken bones, but she remembers how it hurt for Galladon in the first months after his near-fatal accident, so she figures the Kingslayer is in for quite some pain.

He is awake, though sleepy, when they approach him. "I'd say your presence is welcome, my lady", he mumbles, "but I know what it implies."

She raises her eyebrows, then realizes he's unable to see it. "I'm… sorry?"

He chuckles. "Don't be, it's not your fault. I should thank you in advance, probably."

"You're… welcome, I suppose."

It's strange. He's been nothing but courteous to her since they met. Addressing her by 'my lady', something she _should_ be used to hear—after all, all lords and knights from the investigation party called her that—but isn't at all, not after her former septa told her she hasn't 'earned' the title. _Ladies are beautiful, graceful, elegant and proper_ , she'd say. _You are none of those things. I should have known from the moment I saw you metalbending; you'll never be a real lady._ Father's dismissal of Roelle was a remedy to an already bleeding injury, which has yet to be fully mended.

Following Jon's instructions, she sits behind Ser Jaime's head and places her hands on his shoulders. The Avatar grabs his right hand, condenses water from thin air and, closing his eyes, twirls it around the hand. Soon, the Kingslayer begins to shake under her, and she puts pressure against his shoulders to pin him down as he groans in pain. He curses a lot, at first in whispers, but it progressively gets louder until he's all but shouting.

Before she can think better of it, she inclines herself so her face is above his. "Look at me", she commands. He doesn't follow, eyes dancing around everywhere. " _Look at me_ ", she repeats more forcefully, and then he obeys. "Focus on _me_ , not on what he's doing." She knows she's nothing to look on, but that is sort of what she hopes will help—he will be so distracted by her ugliness that he won't notice his pain as much.

It works; for the next moments, he groans, but he no longer shakes so badly—she eases the pressure on him a bit—and seems to calm down a little. She takes her own time looking at him, even though it makes her feel like she's taking advantage of the situation.

He _is_ as handsome as the stories say. His eyes are bright green, and his golden hair curls at the base of his neck. His beard is also golden, though a bit darkened around the edges. His entire face is perfectly symmetrical, and his skin is slightly tanned—certainly, a reflection of spending days under the sun in Casterly Rock and King's Landing.

She has no idea how much time passes before Jon announces he'd done for the day. "His shoulder was easy to heal", he says, "but the hand… it got smashed a lot. Too many broken bones. It will take days, and I'm not sure how properly it will heal."

Even as she moves away, she can see the Kingslayer's eyes go wide. "This is my sword hand, Jon", he says, a hint of desperation in his voice. "I need it to fight."

"I know, I _know_. I'll do all I can, but I'm no Aunt Cat."

Why does he keep calling Lady Stark _Aunt Cat_? She's his father's wife—isn't the correct term _stepmother_? And why does he speak fondly of her? Wives don't usually get along with their husbands' bastards.

The Kingslayer seems to be thinking the same thing, for he calls Jon's name with a warning tone. Jon frowns, then looks at her and his eyes widen. "Oh, my lady", he exclaims. "I'm sorry. I should have told you before." He clears his throat and lowers his voice. "I'm—the rumours that the Avatar is a Targaryen are true. I don't know how they found out—"

"Littlefinger, I'm sure", the other man huffs.

"—but it's true. Lord Stark has posed me as a bastard to save me from the king's wrath." He clears his throat again. "I'm—my father is Rhaegar Targaryen, and my mother is Lyanna Stark."

She takes her hands off Ser Jaime's shoulders. "Oh. That—I suppose it makes sense."

"You must not tell anyone this", the Kingslayer warns. "We almost got killed in the Eyrie because Lysa Arryn figured him out. I mean, it was probably Lord Baelish who figured it out and then told her, but… Anyway. Whatever happened, Jon's got a price on his head now, and so do we all. So… _please_."

He sounds and looks desperate, and Jon tenses up. There is a reply strangled in her throat— _I know it will be dangerous for you, I was_ there _, remember? I heard them taunting you all_ —but another thing comes to her mind, and instead she looks at Jon and says, "I will keep your secret. And, if it's your wish, I can be your sworn sword."

It's obviously a spur-of-the-moment decision, but it feels _right_ when she voices it. Jon startles at that. "My… sworn sword? But I'm no lord."

"You are _the freaking Avatar_ ", the Kingslayer replies, half-groaning. "You outrank lords and kings. Why should you not have a sworn sword? The bloody Night's Watch is all but sworn to you."

Jon raises an eyebrow at him. "You are of the Night's Watch."

"And look what I'm doing. I got thrown off the bloody Eyrie for you!"

Jon groans. "Are you going to bring that up at every opportunity?"

"Of damn course!"

Someone calls for the Avatar, and he excuses himself, leaving the two alone. The Kingslayer looks up at her and asks, "Well, my lady, do you have anything to say?"

For a moment, she thinks of leaving—but suddenly she remembers something she heard in Duskendale. "Ser", she calls him, "have you heard any… news of your family, while in the Vale?"

He frowns and shakes his head. She sighs; such news should not be delivered by her, a near stranger, but now that she started the subject she must carry it through. "Ser… when I was in Duskendale, a few days before my capture, I heard of an Ironborn raid in Ironman Bay. Your… son, Joffrey Stone, is reported as killed in action."

She watches as her words dawn on him. He closes his eyes and takes several slow, deep breaths. When he opens his eyes again, they are glassy with unshed tears. "Thank you for telling me", he whispers.

"I'm sorry", she says in return. "I don't know if you were close, but still… I can't imagine how it is to lose a child."

He runs a hand through his beard. "Joff and I did not get along, if I'm being honest", he admits. "His behavior… it would bring me _unpleasant_ memories, sometimes. And Cersei never let me near any of them, afraid people would notice." He huffs. "All for naught, as you can see. We just postponed it—though I have to admit, we got lucky to have been discovered when Jon was there to intercede in our favor. Any other time, any other place, the king would've had us executed."

A shiver runs down her spine. As grave as his and his sister's crime was, it's hard to picture them being executed… _Would my path have crossed with the Avatar's? Would my life have been saved?_ It unnerves her to realize she owes her life to him, in a way.

"If you wish to leave, my lady", he calls her, "you can. No need to nurse me if you have other places to be."

She shakes her head. "I'm not sure it's wise to leave you alone. We don't know if anyone in this Brotherhood holds any grudges against you. I'd rather wait for Jon to come back."

He gives her a half-smile. "Then I apologize in advance, for I'm about to fall asleep."

She nods, and he closes his eyes. Soon his breath deepens down. It's late when Jon enters back in the tent, and she takes her leave to join Ygritte and Lady Jonquil.

* * *

In the morning, Thoros and Lord Beric announce they will make way to the Wall. "Are any of you five coming with us?", the red priest asks.

Lady Jonquil promptly volunteers, especially after finding out there are other women in the Brotherhood. Jon looks expectantly at Brienne—though _what_ exactly he expects, she can't tell.

All she knows is that… she has little prospects in her life. If the gods are good, she won't inherit Tarth—Gal is meant to wed one of Lord Buckler's daughters as soon as she turns sixteen, meaning soon he will have children that will precede her in the succession line. Marriage would be an option, but one that hasn't worked so far. Her time with Septa Roelle turned her mind away from any work in the Faith.

Being a knight—although not in name, only in lifestyle—is the best she can hope for. She will never be like her ancestor, but she has contemplated swearing herself to her brother or becoming master-at-arms when Ser Goodwin eventually passes away.

Becoming the Avatar's sworn sword feels right in a way few things have before. She can serve an undoubtedly right cause, for one; serving a noble House always comes with the questioning of whether her service would be honorable. She can also prove her worth by defending the one person meant to bring peace and balance to the world. Isn't it all she ever wanted?

(Alright, maybe not _all_. But, in the realm of possibilities, it's all she can hope for.)

Her mind set, she kneels before Jon and places her sword before her. "Lord Avatar", she begins solemnly, "I offer you my services. I will shield your back and keep your counsel and give my life for yours if need be. I swear it by the old gods and the new."

She raises her head to look at him. His lips are set in a thin line, and Lannister inclines his head to whisper in his ear—it occurs to her that Jon would not know how to respond to her oath. Finally, he declares, slowly, "And I vow that you shall always have a place by my hearth, and meat and mead at my table. And I pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you dishonor. I swear it by the old gods and the new. Arise."

She stands up to hear applause from the crowd. Ygritte beams at her, Lady Jonquil smiles wide, and the Kingslayer looks proud—of him, of her, of both, she can't tell.

The next hours are busied with preparations for departure. It is midday when the four of them bid farewell to the Brotherhood. "So", Ygritte begins, "we're off to Saltpans, right?"

The Kingslayer nods. "I don't see why we don't keep our original route."

"We still need healing sessions for your hand", Jon reminds the man.

"I'd rather have them at night. If I'm to pass out every damn time…"

All packed up, they start to march. Without horses, they don't cover that much ground, and there is little change in scenery when night comes.

They all make efforts to bring her to conversation. Ygritte asks about her homeland, while Jon asks about her metalbending training and Ser Jaime asks about her family.

"You had to extract _marble_?", Jon asks at some point.

"No surprises", the Kingslayer comments. "All metalbenders in Casterly Rock and Lannisport train mining."

She proceeds to explain the process involved in extracting marble, while Lannister contributes with his own experiences. "Not that I cared much about it", he comments. "I spent most of my training in the yards. Tyrion and Cersei were the ones who pushed me to train in mining to get my master title."

"Do you have one of those?", Ygritte asks her.

She shakes her head. "I'm too young, for on—"

"Sisterfucker got his at fifteen, didn't he?"

"I was an exception, Ygritte. Let the lady speak, that's not how I raised you."

"You raised me to fuckin' nothin', idiot."

"What do you call all these months under my tutelage?"

"You bein' a pain in my ass, that's what!"

"Guys", Jon calls with a grin. "Poor Lady Brienne doesn't need to be subjected to your bickering. What were you saying, my lady? You have yet to get your master title because of your age?"

After making sure that neither the Kingslayer/Sisterfucker and Ygritte would speak again, she nods. "Although it is likely that I'll never get it, regardless of age and skill", she admits. "Female earth and metalbenders rarely achieve mastery of their craft."

Jon instantly glances at Ser Jaime, who sighs. "Cersei barely got trained, despite her eagerness", he says. "It was poorly done on Father's part. She resorted to self-teaching and scraps of what I could teach her in secret. I do believe she could have gotten a master title, had she been properly trained." He then looks up and down at her, as if measuring her up. " _You_ , my lady, on the other hand, _have_ been trained. It's not far-fetched to think you can rise to master. All you need is to get a master trial when the time comes."

She frowns. "No maesters have come to Tarth since my brother narrowly escaped death and the one we had at the time was dismissed in favor of waterbender healers." She wrinkles her nose in distaste—the memory of the old hag who called himself a skilled healer still fresh on her mind, over a decade later. "I doubt any maester from the Citadel would go there just for a woman's master trial."

Ygritte grimaces. "Are they this craven?"

Before she can reply, Ser Jaime says, "One day, this will all be over, and the realm will know you as the Avatar's sworn sword. If that alone won't grant you a master title, your skills will be clear as day for anyone to see. If you still face trouble, reach out to my brother in Casterly Rock. No maester will deny him a request to evaluate you."

She blinks, unsure of how to reply to such words. "I—thank you."

He grins. "I saw you in Harrenhal. I may have lost my master title, but, as our beloved Avatar eloquently put it out once, it was _purely_ out of dishonor, not out of loss of skill. I can recognize talent when I see it, and you have it plenty."

Before she can thank him again, Ygritte laughs. "I can't believe _you_ said that, Jon!"

Jon rolls his eyes. "Look, I wanted to check if he was as good as rumours claimed."

"Dishonor is not a small deal in this realm, you know", the man replies, although there is _something_ in his voice she can't make out.

"Oh, _look_ at this dishonor", Ygritte retorts, full of sarcasm. "This man killed a cunt who raped his wife and burned everyone he didn't like! How _evil_!"

Lannister flinches, throwing a glance at her as he does. Ygritte notices, her mouth thining up in a line. _He didn't want me hearing that_ , she realizes. _Why?_

Like everyone else in Westeros, Brienne has heard stories of the Mad King. He was a paranoid man, seeing enemies everywhere and subjecting his people to misery. Rumours of harassment and rape are common, but… burning people?

The Kingslayer got his nickname and reputation not just because he killed Aerys, but because he did so as his Kingsguard—breaking his vows to protect the king. Of course, this implies he was around him, likely being privy to his madness. Is it possible that he shared his time there with Jon and Ygritte? If so, why wouldn't he want to tell her these tales?

 _It certainly doesn't justify his wrongdoings_ , she thinks. _And he probably has no way to prove his words. He can tell whatever he wants to two people who have never been south of Winterfell before, but how long will his lies keep up around someone like me, who knows all of the stories surrounding him?_

Then again, Jon saw, first-hand, the moment he was imprisoned for fornicating with his twin and fathering her children—who were passed as King Robert's. It's arguably as grave as a crime as kingslaying, and the Avatar himself overlooked it all and accepted him as teacher and friend. _And look at his action since you met him_ , she reminds herself. _He does not seem to be the vile man he's known as. Give it time._

Ygritte draws her out of her reverie with questions about her mother. "I didn't know her well", she admits. "She died of a… mysterious disease when I was a child. Father told me she showed signs of sickness shortly after my twin sisters' deaths, and her health declined rapidly. He claims it was of broken heart."

The woman looks sad. "I lost my mother very young, too", she offers. "I was three years old. She was a spearwife, just like I am." Brienne makes a mental note to ask what a 'spearwife' is. "I've been told she died when our group was attacked in the middle of the night. They said the enemy party screeched when attacked, but otherwise was silent. We were caught by surprise." She sighs. "Mother was a bender, you know. The last firebender of the Free Folk."

"Wait, _what_?", the Kingslayer exclaims. "You never told me you were the daughter of a firebender!"

"It's usually not important", she replies, the usual mirth of her voice gone. "It only matters when I tell the story of how she died. I don't remember her firebending." She shakes her head. "Anyway, they said she died while killing an earthbender. We all found it odd, because earthbenders were even rarer than firebenders back in the day." She looks at Jon. "Only after I told the story to Jon and Maester Aemon that we guessed that maybe Mother was killed by wights instead of an enemy tribe."

She raises her eyebrows at that. "But wights are dead people, aren't they? How do they bend?"

Ygritte shrugs. "Who knows how they work? But wights retain the skills they had in life, be it weapon mastery or bending. Jon and Sisterfucker were lucky to have fought a non bender wight."

"He was good with a sword, though", Jon adds. "Jaime got an injury on his right shoulder."

"And now I have another to match on my left one", Ser Jaime says in a mockingly cheerful tone.

They make camp in the woods, and Jon makes a fire. "I've never met my mother", he says, seemingly continuing the subject they were on. "She died giving birth to me. Uncle tried to heal her, but… he says the Dornish air is too dry, and he wasn't experienced enough to drag water from air and turn into ice in order to heal her—she couldn't heal herself either." He stands from his place by the fire to sit beside Ygritte. She sits on her other side, while the Kingslayer sits on the Avatar's left. "My uncles say she was a good icebender and a skilled horserider—last year Uncle Benjen told me she was the infamous Knight of the Laughing Tree. That was how she and Father met."

Jon keeps on telling stories of his mother—all repetitions of what his uncles told him, of course. Finally, Ser Jaime tells them of his own mother, who died in childbirth as well. "Father always blamed Tyrion for 'killing' her, and so did Cersei", he says, sadness in his voice. "Aside from me, the only other family member who cared for him was Aunt Genna."

"This is fucked up", Ygritte comments, and Jon hums in agreement. Brienne is busy giving them their pieces of bread to reply. The wildling girl raises her food and says, "Well, I say we honor our dinners to our mothers, may the gods have mercy of their souls."

"To Lyanna Stark", Jon proclaims.

"To Korra", Ygritte adds.

"To Joanna Lannister."

"To Alyssa Tarth."

"Aye", they all exclaim and begin to eat.

When they finish eating, Jon proceeds to the Kingslayer's hand. Brienne dutifully positions herself at his head as he lays down. "Hey, Sisterfucker", Ygritte calls. "Why don't you sing while Jon tends to your hand? That way you'll distract yourself."

He hums. "That might just work, you know." He takes a deep breath and begins to sing.

_[Wise](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vGJTaP6anOU) men say only fools rush in  
But I can't help falling in love with you_

Jon drags water from air and places it on the other man's injured hand, as usual. Ser Jaime lets out a groan, but keeps singing.

_Shall I stay? Would it be a sin  
If I can't help falling in love with you?_

She pins his shoulders down as she grows restless. His eyes dance around, as if searching for something. She lowers her hand and inclines it to look at him. His eyes find hers and calm a bit.

_Like a river flows surely to the sea  
Darling, so it goes  
Some things are meant to be_

He lets out another groan, and his healthy hand closes in a fist. Before she can think twice, she takes her hand off his shoulder and reaches for his wrist. He grabs it and squeezes it against her own.

_Take my hand, take my whole life too  
For I can't help falling in love with you_

He closes his eyes, and she reclines back to her original position. Jon grabs more water and moves a bit more, earning a couple groans—but Ser Jaime is set on finishing the song.

_For I can't help  
Falling in love with you_

Jon finishes the session. "It's already better than yesterday", he declares. "With rest, you may get in full health again before we reach Sunspear."

The man thanks both of them and falls asleep almost immediately.

* * *

As soon as they reach Saltpans, they look for an inn. For safety precautions, Jon and Ygritte are the ones to get the rooms and pay in advance, while she and Ser Jaime take care of the horses. "Perhaps we should dye our hair", he muses to her. "Jon and Ygritte are not easily recognizable, but anyone who looks for them just needs to look for two tall blond knights."

She nods. They've told her about how often Jaime was recognized on the road, and how much trouble it caused them—after all, they were captured near Harrenhal _because_ Jaime was rumoured to be the Avatar. As for her, she has no doubts stories about the warrior woman of Tarth would be circulating by now, and she's not an easy person to miss with her body build. Jon doesn't look Targaryen at all—meaning no one will guess he's the firebender Avatar—and Ygritte's hair color is not that hard to find in the riverlands.

Only after the couple comes back saying they got two small rooms they get inside. "One for you and I", Jaime says to Jon, and "and one for the women, right?" His eyebrows are raised, as if daring the boy to question him.

"Of course", Jon replies, and Brienne thinks she should be used to seeing the _Avatar_ obeying the _Kingslayer_ , but she still isn't. _Jon is not even fifteen_ , she reminds herself, _and Lannister is his metalbending teacher. Of course he defers to him and treats him with respect._

They gather in a more secluded corner to eat supper. Jon and Ygritte finish first and excuse themselves for the stables. Ser Jaime rolls his eyes. "They think they are so subtle", he mumbles. She can't help but chuckle, and he chuckles along.

* * *

Ygritte is not in their room when she enters, but she doesn't mind—she even prefers it, since the girl won't be around when she changes out of her armor. No matter what the other woman says about her body, she's still not brave enough to expose herself in front of others. She's managed to keep her modesty so far.

A knock is heard, and she frowns; why would Ygritte knock? Only, it's the Kingslayer. He looks slightly annoyed, and she doesn't know how to react.

"Hello?", he greets her slowly, as if she was mentally handicapped.

Perhaps she is. "...I was expecting Ygritte", she stutters.

He sighs. "And _I_ was expecting to be able to get in my room, but it seems that those two lovebirds can't keep their hands off each other." Her eyes go wide at the implications—the couple has not retreated to the stables, clearly. Ser Jaime seems to read her reaction wrongly, for he quickly adds, "Look, I… I can sleep on the floor, or even outside—"

"Nonsense", she retorts, interrupting him as she opens the door enough for him to enter. "From what I've gathered, you've gotten in trouble more than once because someone recognized you and conveniently forgot you are from the Night's Watch now. I won't let you sleep out in the open."

He steps inside, noticeably taken aback. "I'm… thank you." He looks around nervously—probably thinking she'll change her mind and kick him out. _I'm not heartless, Kingslayer_ , she wants to say, _especially not to someone who's been nothing but courteous to me._ His next words surprise her by their randomness: "Is there a water basin in this room?"

It takes a moment, but she nods, pointing him in the direction of the mirror she just used to change herself. "Yes, right in the corner."

"Is it full?"

"Yes, I haven't used it yet."

"Great", he exclaims and makes his way to it. He grabs the chair nearby and, upon sitting on it, grabs a small blade out of his pockets, incling his body in the direction of the water basin. She sits on the bed, waiting for him to finish whatever he wants to do before discussing sleep arrangements.

He begins to touch his forehead with the blade, but his groans indicate that he's not succeeding at his intentions. After a while, she gives up waiting for him and asks, "What are you trying to do?"

He lets his left hand—the one holding the blade—fall to his side and turns to her. "Shaving my head. You just said it, we can't have anyone else recognizing me, especially if we're going to get on a ship. If I get rid of my hair, I can go by unnoticed."

Although his vanity is not a subject she's dedicated any real thoughts on, Brienne is surprised by his decision. "And you are… okay? With losing your hair?"

He shrugs. "Well, it can't be comfortable under the sun, but I don't think it's an actual problem."

"That's not what I was talking about—nevermind"

He smirks, almost ironically. "Oh, I get it. You thought the Lion of Lannister would never give up his golden mane, huh?" He glances at the mirror and adds, more gently, "But I'm no lion anymore, I'm just a crow."

She sighs. An apology is halfway through her tongue, but what comes out is, "Do you… need help?"

He huffs. "I was supposed to be able to do this."

She suppresses a chuckle. "Not with only one hand, no."

"Hey, I still have two hands."

She raises her eyebrows. "But only one is functional, and I'm half sure the one you broke is your dominant one. I _can_ help you, if you want."

He sighs, but hands her the blade. "If you're offering… I want your help, yes."

She stands up and goes around the bed to grab the blade. Silently, she positions herself behind him, grabs his head and lifts it as gently as possible. Then, she begins her work, careful to not cut him. Golden lock by golden lock, his hair falls down, revealing a lighter skin on the top of his head—his skin really is _tanned_ , then.

After a whole hour, she finishes it, placing the blade on the study near the chair and looking at him to see the result of her work. He _does_ look very different now—almost a whole new man, as if trying to reflect the contradictions he has sparked in her mind since they met.

His voice brings her back to reality. "What are you looking at? Am I that hideous now?"

She lets out a strangled laugh. "I don't think I'm the right of calling anyone _hideous_ , Ser. It's just… neverm—"

"Oh, no, not that word again. C'mon, tell me."

She looks away. "It may sound offensive."

A warm hand touches her arm. It's his, obviously. "I've been called Kingslayer for fifteen years, and Sisterfucker for half one. I'm used to offense."

She sighs and sits down on the edge of the bed. "It's just… it's hard to reconcile what I know about you with what I've seen." A head shake. "For all my life, I've heard about a man who broke his vows, a man without honor, who cared only about glory. And then, I find out you were finally discharged from the Kingsguard because you once again broke your vows by sleeping with your sister, the queen. And rumour has it that you pushed a kid out of a window to keep that secret. I'm sure you can see I didn't have the best picture of you in mind."

He grins, and she can see and hear his sarcasm. "And what did you see that made you question whether I'm this monster everyone believes me to be?"

She gulps and looks at her lap. "I—You treat Jon and Ygritte with kindness. Yes, you all bicker and jape, but it's obvious you care about them, and they about you. You are their friend. You never made fun of me, or laughed at my expense. On the contrary; you've been nothing but polite. And you made sure Jonquil Whent was safe, even when it nearly cost you your hand—"

"What?"

She looks up; he seems confused, which makes _her_ confused. "You broke your hand fighting Clegane, no?"

He blinks. "Oh. Yeah, that too, but it was already broken when I beat up those men who wanted to rape you and Ygritte. It wasn't even _necessary_ for the escape plan, come to think of it, but I saw them and couldn't hold myself."

Now _she's_ taken aback. " I—what—it's— … thank you. Again."

His grin is back, though softer. "So that's what made you rethink all of your life choices?"

She rolls her eyes. "Not my _life choices_ , just my opinion of you. Our time on the road also helped…" A sigh. "You are not what people think at all, Ser. Jon said you never had any obligation to train him, yet you did. You didn't have to accompany him on this trip, but you did simply because he asked. He claims you are one of the most diligent members of the Night's Watch he knows, and he's spent his _whole life_ there. If your stories are true, you seem to get along fine with the Starks, despite what you did to one of them. You seem to have genuinely loved your sister, and to love your brother just as much, even if it's a different love. It's… it's hard to reconcile the man I've seen these past days with the image they paint of you."

His voice is almost a whisper when he replies, "I didn't _actively_ push Bran out of the window. He scared me, and I couldn't control my bending in time to stop a spike from erupting. The Starks have always known it was an accident. That's why I got the chance of going to the Wall instead of… being beheaded. No one has ever held it against me there, not even Bran himself. I was never forgiven so... _easily_ before."

She blinks. "That's… good to know." Then, feeling brave all of a sudden, "Er… May I ask you something?"

He nods. "Sure. I won't promise an answer, though."

She almost tells him to forget it, but then—when else she might get that chance? "Why… why did you kill the Mad King?"

He almost jumps out of the chair, eyes wide. She quickly stammers an apology. "I'm sorry, I—"

"No one has ever asked", he says, voice so low she nearly misses it.

"Really?"

"No one. Not Lord Stark, not King Robert, not Ser Barristan, not my father, not even Cersei and Tyrion. They all just assumed I was playing a part in Father's plans, and _he_ assumed I did it to assure him I was on his side."

His tone and body language imply otherwise, so she asks, "But they were wrong… weren't they?"

He fixes his gaze on hers, but it takes a while for him to reply. "Have you ever heard about Aerys? About his behavior?"

Of course she has. "He thought everyone was conspiring against him, and the rebellion started, in part, because he executed Rickard and Brandon Stark without any good reason."

He glances away from her. "You've never heard about his preferred execution method?" She shakes her head, then mumbles a 'no' when realizes he can't see her. "Wildfire", he replies, turning back to her eyes. "He has always resented the fact he wasn't born a firebender, and used wildfire to pretend he was. That's what happened to the Starks. He had Brandon tied and forced to watch his father's death and then burned him too."

His tale is too detailed for it to be merely something he heard. "Wait—you _saw_ it?"

He nods, but decides to talk about another matter. "He raped his wife often, and her screams could be heard outside. I wasn't allowed to rescue her, because my vows didn't allow me to protect _her_ from the _king_ , because _he_ was my _priority_. Never mind that, before being a member of the Kingsguard, I was a _knight_ , who vowed to protect the _innocent_." He raises his chin defiantly. "Tell me, my lady, which vow should I have put first? Is it in chronological order, or by status?"

 _He must have asked that question yourself a thousand times_ , she realizes. "I—I don't know, Ser."

He presses his back on the chair, and lowers his chin. "Yeah, neither did I. Not until…" He inhales deeply. "He got worse when he heard about Rhaegar's death. He thought his son was invincible because of his firebending—nevermind that his wife was a firebender too but never managed to fight _him_ —and lost what little was left of his mind afterwards. He… told the pyromancers to ignite the caches around the city—"

"Wait", she says, raising a hand to stop him. " _What_ did you just say?"

He glances at his broken hand. His reply is quiet. "Aerys had ordered wildfire caches to be spread all around King's Landing. Under Baelor's Sept, under all city gates, under the Dragonpit, under the Red Keep—"

She _has_ to interrupt him again. "Under the _Red Keep_?", she all but shouts. "But that would kill him too! And his family!"

He grunts and rises from his seat. "He damn knew. 'The traitors want my city, but I'll give them naught but ashes. Let Robert be king over charred bones and cooked meat.' That's what he told them. What he told _me_ , right before ordering me to kill my father." He starts pacing, growing more restless at each word. "Tell me, my lady, what would you have done? Because what _I_ did… I slew Rossart first, before he could deliver the message to the other pyromancers. Then I marched to Aerys… I couldn't let him summon the others. I bended the throne so it could slain him, just like it did to Maegor the Cruel. It seemed… fitting. I fixed it after making sure he was dead, and that's how Lord Stark found me. He didn't waste time asking me why, he figured out all by himself. Clever man, huh?"

 _Oh_. Without thinking twice, she rises to meet him, placing a hand on the shoulder that got pierced by the Mountain. "He should have asked. They all should have. Or… Jon, at least."

He softens at the mention of Jon, and he raises his healthy hand to touch hers. "I think he wants to. He _has_ asked me about Aerys, and even without the whole story he seems to think I did good by killing him. I'm not sure he's ready for the whole truth, though." He sighs and takes her hand off, heading back to the chair. "Well, now you know. Do what you… want with that." Then he sits, looking even more tired than when he arrived at her room.

"Ser", she calls him, "you should take the bed tonight. You are clearly exhausted."

He stares at her as if she's asked him to climb on a dragon. "Jaime, my name is Jaime", he replies, more courteously than she expected by his facial expression. "And I can't take that offer. I won't let you sleep on the floor."

Under any other circumstances, she'd be touched by his chivalrousness. Now, though, she just wants both of them to rest. "Ser _Jaime_ , if that's the only thing stopping you, the bed fits both of us. I believe we are grown up enough to share a bed without any impropriety." _We are not Jon and Ygritte._

He smiles at that. "I agree, Lady Brienne. And… thank you."

She frowns, making her way to what is to be her side of the bed. "For what? I only made you relive the worst moment of your life." Because that's what she just did, isn't it? She could see in his eyes that he did not tell her a single lie.

He rises from the chair and takes his jacket off. "You _asked_. You _cared_. That's more than anyone else ever did, and for that I'm grateful." He takes his boots off and throws himself on his side of the bed. "Even if you still despise me, at least you have all the facts to properly judge me."

How can he think she still thinks badly of him after pouring out his secret? His greatest deed—slaying the monster in order to save thousands? _And his heroism will never be acknowledged. He will die a villain, because that's what others made him._ "I don't despise you", she finally says. "You followed your knightly vows. Protect the innocent. Women and children. Be brave, be just. You followed all of them. It wasn't your fault that it required… killing the king you were supposed to guard. But I guess evil men are not to be protected, are they?"

He turns his head to face her. "Even if they are the king?"

She bites her lip, and she swears, for a moment, his gaze flickers on them—but it's probably a trick of candlelight. "Maegor the Cruel was killed by the Iron Throne", she recites what is most likely legend, but it is what prevailed in history recordings. "You just did the job that damn chair should have done long ago."

He smiles again, and she has to admit, at least to herself, that it illuminates the room more than any candle. "Good night, my lady", he whispers before turning away.

Despite the emotions of moments ago, and the supposed tension of sharing a bed with a man, it's remarkably easy to fall asleep.

* * *

During breakfast, Jon and Ygritte confess to have overheard their conversation. "I'm sorry", Jon says in the end, "but when I heard Lady Brienne asking you about my grandfather, I could not resist."

Ser Jaime looks tense for a moment. "Is there any chance anyone else overheard us?"

It's a legitimate concern, and Brienne tenses up too, until Ygritte shakes her head. "It was just us in the corridor. I kept checking."

She feels herself relax, and notices he does as well. "Well then, good to know I'm spared of the trouble of repeating that whole tale again."

They all hum in agreement. Had it been her, she'd be relieved as well. "I knew you had a good reason to kill him", Jon comments.

"I tried to imagine _what_ could've driven you to the edge", Ygritte adds. "You told us of his cruelty, so I wondered why you waited two whole years to end him. I know you kneeled and vowed and whatever, but… well. Figured it must've been somethin' damn big."

The knight merely waves it off, a clear sign that he doesn't want to talk about it anymore—which is reinforced by his change of subject. "So, we are all going to Dorne, right?" They nod. "We should make our way to the docks after this. Maybe we won't be able to get on a ship today, but it's better to guarantee something for tomorrow."

"What are our possible safe stops?", Jon asks.

Ser Jaime hums. "Driftmark", he begins. "It's still in the crownlands, but there is a bigger chance to find ships to Sunspear from there. Duskendale, maybe—"

"I wouldn't be so sure", she interrupts. "I've been there recently. If anyone recognizes me, they will pay attention to you three."

"Oh, okay then. Duskendale is out. Storm's End is also out…"

"Tarth", she suggests. "We can stop by Tarth. My father and brother will keep our stay a secret if I ask."

Ser Jaime looks at her intensely—or at least, she thinks his gaze intense. He's been looking at her strangely since they woke up, as if trying to figure her out. Then, he finally says, "That might be the _best idea_ to come up this morning."

She straightens herself, taken aback by his words. It isn't often that her ideas are praised—she rarely voices them to anyone but Father and Galladon, and although they agree with her sometimes, it's never with that much praise.

"All we've got to do", he continues, "is find a ship to Tarth. It'll be easier than finding one straight to Sunspear, _and_ we get an island vacation."

At that, she can't help but laugh, especially when Jon and Ygritte are already laughing. "Tarth it is, then", Jon agrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Jaime sings is Elvis Presley's 'Can't help falling in love'.  
> We will take a break from the main storyline to go back to the other characters!


	30. Catelyn II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Winterfell, Cat and Robb receive grim news of the world outside. Tough decisions must be made.

The missive arrives on a snowy morning. _King Robert Baratheon_ , it says, followed by all of his titles, and then, _summons the Lord Hand Eddard Stark's wife and bastard son, Catelyn Stark and Jon Frost, to court in order to testify the latter's parentage and true bending powers. Jon Frost is accused of hiding his Avatar status and, alongside House Stark, of hiding his Targaryen blood. Lord Stark and his daughter are already held prisoner. Failure to answer this missive will be regarded as treason against the Crown and punished accordingly._

Although the handwriting is clearly not the king's, it carries his signature and seal, so there is no question whether this is real. The lack of letters from Ned, Sansa and Arya also confirms this—their correspondence came to a sudden stop not long ago, which is easily explained if they were in danger.

She calls for Robb, Rodrik and Maester Luwin to discuss the matter. _What should we do? Jon isn't here, and we haven't heard of him since he, Ygritte and Lannister left Winterfell. How are they?_ Where _are they? What happened that made Robert guess the truth?_

Her son is as distressed as she is when he reads the missive. "How did they find out?", he wonders aloud. "Clearly, this wasn't by our family's word. Father would never tell, and neither would Arya and Sansa. It can't be Ser Jaime's fault either. He'd never do anything that could compromise his life, or his children's." He starts to pace around the solar. "Maybe Jon did something stupid and outed himself to the world. All he had to do was bend two elements with witnesses."

"Perhaps his trust was betrayed", Ser Rodrik offers. "We know he would have to reveal himself to whoever would train him. My lady", he turns to her, "where was he headed to, at first?"

"The Eyrie", she replies easily. "He'd meet my uncle, the Blackfish, and my sister Lysa, who would direct him to the best airbending teacher in the Vale to train him." She assumes it'd be someone from House Royce, since they have a history of master airbenders that rivals House Arryn. "I doubt either of them would betray Jon, especially if he gave my name, but the household…"

Maester Luwin frowns. "But who would a member of the Arryn household talk to, in order to have their word reach King's Landing?"

And isn't that the golden question!

"I'll write to my sister", she declares. "I'm sure she knows something."

"But what will we write to the capital?", Robb asks in return. "We cannot let this go unanswered. Father, Sansa and Arya will pay for our silence!"

She goes to him and places a comforting hand on his shoulder. "We must _reply_ to the summoning, not necessarily _follow_ it." She sighs. "We don't know how things are going with Jon, so it's not a good idea to tell them he's with us. We'll tell them part of the truth: he's been in the Wall for sometime, left recently, we've had no news of him ever since. Tell him we don't know why he left, only that he did when we paid a visit and did not find him. As for me, tell him I fell ill. He has no way of knowing the truth of it."

Her son nods, his mouth in a thin line, indicating his tension. "I fear for our family", he says quietly.

Not caring if there are other men to see it, she hugs him tightly. "So do I, my darling." With Ned, Sansa and Arya imprisoned in King's Landing, Jon endangered gods know where, and Bran and Benjen wandering beyond the Wall, there is _much_ to worry about—enough that she's been finding grey hair amidst the red more often than not.

They can only pray their family is safe, and take care of each other in the meantime.

* * *

She's putting Rickon to sleep when Robb comes to her. "Another raven came from King's Landing", he tells her when they are in the corridor. "I haven't opened it yet, but it can't be a reply to my letter. I've just sent it."

They go to his chambers, and she opens it. It's from Sansa—she knows her eldest daughter's by heart. _Father is under arrest, forbidden from leaving his chambers_ , it says. _I've been dismissed from my role as Queen Margaery's lady-in-waiting, but she still considers me a friend. In fact, she's the one helping me write and send this in secret (which means you must burn this after reading it). Arya is not here anymore. Margaery arranged for her to sneak in a ship to White Harbor. She should arrive at any time now; she will tell you all details. Don't come to King's Landing; it is most likely a trap. Don't trust Lord Baelish if he writes to you. We suspect he's behind this, which means Aunt Lysa is not to be trusted either. We have no news of Jon, but I doubt he's still in the Eyrie. Please take care. We don't know what the future has in store for us._

"Have you sent your letter to Aunt Lysa?", Robb asks after they finish.

She nods, closing her eyes. Of course, Sansa does not say why they suspect Petyr, but there must be a good reason for it. Thankfully, she didn't disclose too much on her letter; only asked after Jon.

When Robb speaks again, it's about another subject entirely. "I'll write to Lord Manderly and ask about Arya. Thank the gods she's not in that city anymore."

She nods again, this time humming in agreement as well.

* * *

Two ravens arrive on the same day; one from King's Landing, another from the Eyrie.

_The king wishes Lady Stark a smooth recovery_ , the one from the capital says, _and orders her to come as soon as her health allows it._ There is nothing regarding what Robb said about Jon, which may be a sign that they at least believed him. Hopefully, their silence also means he hasn't been found by them.

His sister's letter is as grim as she feared. _Your husband's bastard, you say… Don't you mean his nephew, instead?_

She inhales sharply. This is why Sansa told her not to trust Lysa or Petyr… She keeps reading. _Oh, no, he told me nothing of his true parentage; he told me what you've said: the bastard son of honorable Ned Stark, whose mother is a nobody, most likely dead by now. But he also told me stories about growing up with his uncle Benjen in the Wall, training under him and, look, Maester Aemon Targaryen._

Oh, no. Jon spilled his backstory to her sister. Of course, neither him or his travel companions could have known the information would be used against him. _He conveniently omitted the order in which he began his training, only that his third element was metal, at the hands of the Kingslayer, and his fourth is air, which he learned here, depriving my Sweetrobin of many training days. But everyone knows that the Avatar has been prophesied to be born as the Warrior. A firebender. It soon dawned on me that Jon Frost should be named Jon Fyre._

Catelyn shakes her head, despite having no one around to see it. Lysa may have her talents, but this line of thinking doesn't suit her. It does suit Petyr, though—and the two of them always kept a close relationship; he rose to Master of Coin per her suggestion to her late husband, after all.

The story forms in her mind: Lysa likely wrote to Petyr about Jon. In turn, he did his research and figured out his parentage, and wrote to Lysa about it.

_Oh, but you asked for news of him_ , the letter continues, and she can almost hear her sister's sarcastic voice. _Well, a moon ago I confronted him about his lies. He, his wildling whore and the Kingslayer denied vehemently, but then they fought against my men when I told them they could answer for their charges in King's Landing. After harming numerous Valemen, they fled from the Eyrie with Jon's newly learned airbending_ — _though some soldiers reported to have seen his eyes glowing, unlike anything we've seen in his stay. I know he escaped with the Kingslayer, but his whore is said to have fallen from the Moon Gate. She's most likely dead, her broken bones spread across the forest under the castle._

A sob escapes through her lips. Ygritte has always been a good girl to Jon and her children; Arya and Bran are particularly close to her, and her nephew _loves_ her. Losing her may _break_ him, and Ser Jaime may not be enough to help him move on. She sends a silent prayer to the old gods and the new for the three of them. _I won't despair now. Jon may have used his airbending to rescue her._

Wiping a tear from her eyelids, she finishes her reading. _The Crown has been made aware of the threat against it. A price is on the Targaryen boy's head. Admittedly, not everyone in the Vale agrees with justice; some have been enchanted with the Avatar and his troupe, and think I went mad. They seem to have forgotten what we endured under the dragons' reign, but I haven't. I won't let another of them roam free._

Tears fall, and she doesn't hold them. Some unknown time later, Robb finds her, reads the letters, and hugs her. "Everything will be alright", he tells her. "I'll find a way to send a party in search of Jon, or at least reliable news of his whereabouts."

"Please do", she replies. "If you find that Ygritte is truly dead, we must find a way to retrieve her bones. She'd want to be burned."

He nods. "I fear we will have to take a side sooner or later, Mother. We won't be able to keep up this farce of your illness, and if Jon is in hiding… We may have to choose between him or the Crown."

She raises her chin. "What will you choose?"

"Jon", he replies without hesitation. "It's what Father would want me to choose, regardless of his own situation in King's Landing. And Jon… he's like a brother to me. You know that. And he's the _Avatar_. We need him to fight against the Others, whether the king believes the threat or not."

She nods. Even though she can't bear to imagine what Robert might do to Ned and Sansa should Robb declare against him, it is the right decision. And pray as she might, chances that this decision will have to be taken grow higher every day.

They may have to prepare for war.


	31. Benjen II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benjen's only remedy against boredom is his nephew's stories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse for my delay in writing and posting this other than I caught up with a brand new fic idea to fix show canon xD (I won't post it anytime soon, though, so I figured I should go back to my currently in-progress stories)  
> So, this is a short chapter, mostly for worldbuilding porn, but the second half contains an explanation for the events of chapters 23-25 (Ygritte I, Tyrion III and Aegon I). I also promised to show what was going on with each Stark, so this is to show how Bran and Benjen are doing.

Some days, he regrets staying in that cave. There isn't much to do aside from hunting, sparing, talking and watching Bran learn how to spiritbend.

Actually, hunting is done more for his and Hodor's benefit than for actual necessity. Bloodraven wasn't kidding when he said the Children of the Forest would provide for them daily. However, his body screams for exercise, and he and Meera want to test their bending with Valyrian steel as often as possible.

Retrieving Dark Sister from under Bloodraven's bones proved to be quite a challenge. The sword was deeply entangled among numerous branches and roots, and the lack of earthbenders in their group meant they had to cut through them manually, with their swords and daggers. Meera and Jojen used their mudbending for cleaning, which helped a lot, but not enough to spare them a small lake's worth of sweat.

The highlights of their days are when Bran comes back from his lessons to tell them stories of the past. His latest one is of the Doom of Valyria—which turns into a whole history lesson about how the extinct society worked.

"Valyria began as a small kingdom called Fire Nation", he begins, "founded by the first firebenders, who called themselves the Sun Warriors because they learned to bend from watching the sun. Most of old firebending philosophy comes from them. Valyria as it was known was founded much later, when other people learned firebending from the dragons they tamed—those became dragonriders, who made themselves nobility in the city they founded.

"The Sun Warriors and the Fire Nation remained, as a kingdom within a kingdom, so to speak. The heads of noble houses in Valyria would gather together as the Fire Sages, an order which evolved to a high council made of the best firebending masters of each generation. Fire Nation's Phoenix King or Queen was replaced by Valyrian Fire Lord or Lady, chosen among the dragonlords.

"Firebender Avatars were usually born in Valyria. There was a whole ritual led by the Sun Warriors to identify and announce them. The last Valyrian Avatar was Roku Targaryen. I haven't checked much of the Avatars after him, but from what little I've seen, he was the last one to live and die in peace.

"Centuries after Roku's death, Fire Lord Azulon Zaehaerys was murdered by his own son Ozai, who crowned himself the Phoenix King reborn. Ozai had gathered many loyalists among the Fire Sages and the dragonlords, which made his ascension possible. He named his daughter Azula Fire Lady, while persecuting his relatives who opposed him—namely his son Zuko, his brother Iroh, his nephew Lu Ten and his wife Ursa.

"Ursa disappeared, her fate never discovered. Lu Ten was killed in action by Ozai's high general Zhao. Iroh fought Zhao himself to avenge his son's death, and both men died in the process. Zuko stood against Azula in a duel and won, but his father showed up and challenged him immediately after. As gifted as Zuko was as a firebender, his energy had been spent fighting his sister, another prodigy, and he was no match for his well-rested father.

"Zuko's death triggered the Doom. The people who witnessed the duel thought it was the gods' punishment for kinslaying, but the truth is more complex than that.

"You see, Valyria was surrounded by volcanoes—the Fourteen Flames, which were held down by the Sun Warriors. This used to be a well-known fact, but the dragonlords forgot about it over time. As the Sun Warriors opposed Ozai's rule, he had each of them killed. Zuko's death happened roughly at the time the last Sun Warriors were killed, which led to the magic holding the volcanoes down being lifted. The rest… is history."

When Jojen asks what happened to Ursa, assuming Bran could have tracked her down, he is proven correct by his nephew's nearly immediate answer. "She took Zuko out of the home they shared with Ozai and Azula and delivered him to Iroh. Afterwards, she faked her death and fled to Lys. There, she married her childhood sweetheart, who had long fled Valyria, and the two founded House Rogare after adopting new aliases. Their only daughter, Kiyi, was a lightningbender, and so were all of her descendants ever since."

House Rogare sounds familiar to him. When did he hear that nam—oh. "Isn't House Rogare the one that married into House Targaryen after the Dance of the Dragons?"

Bran nods. "Larra Rogare married Viserys Targaryen while the latter was hidden from Aegon II. Viserys became king after his last nephew died without issue. Since his three children all had Larra as their mother, House Targaryen from then on all carried Rogare blood." He smirks. "Funny thing, Ursa was a descendant of Roku, from a branch of House Targaryen who did not flee with Aenar and his daughter Daenys. So, in a way, all Targaryens from Aegon IV and Naerys and beyond are descendants of the last Valyrian Avatar by both sides."

This last part prompts, for the days that follow, a detailed explanation about the history of House Blackfyre, which proves to be rather hard for Benjen to follow through.

Today, though, Bran comes to them with startling discoveries regarding the present time. "The dragons are back!", he exclaims.

"Wait, what?", Meera exclaims back, voicing his own surprise.

"I saw it! Daenerys Targaryen, daughter of Aerys and Rhaella, hatched three dragon eggs in her husband's pyre." He looks so excited, for a moment Benjen thinks he'll start to walk again. "And it wasn't just that. The dragons' rebirth triggered a strong power increment in firebenders of all kinds."

He frowns. "What do you mean?"

"Daenerys' firebending has improved greatly in a short time", he replies. "Jon has yet to realize his power increase, but he has accidentally triggered the Avatar State—I have yet to figure this one out, but I know the name from Roku's and Korra's memories." His face falls. "Some other things were not so good."

"Like what?", Meera asks softly.

It takes a moment for Bran to continue. "Edric Dayne lost control of his suddenly stronger lavabending and accidentally activated the dormant volcano under his home. Starfall was covered in lava, and only four of the fifty people who were in the castle survived.

"Also, I found out there was a whole conspiracy to crown a Blackfyre boy disguised as Aegon VI Targaryen. His lightningbending had been blocked, but the wave of increased firebending unlocked his powers. He found out his whole life had been a lie, and now wanders around Essos in search of his identity. Good news, we no longer have to worry about a pretender invading Westeros."

Benjen can't bring himself to care much for this boy, to be honest, but he laments for the tragedy in Starfall. He remembers Arthur and Ashara Dayne from Harrenhal and Ned's sadness upon telling him both were dead. He hoped Lady Allyria could marry and bring more lavabenders to the world—or else lavabending will die out.

His thoughts are interrupted by the Children of the Forest's arrival to bring them food. It's a quick exchange, for neither of them are fluent in the other's tongue. As he sits to eat his meal, he once again wonders whether he should have stayed in the cave or not. Bran seems safe enough here.

Oh well. It's too late now. He has to content himself with hunting, sparing, talking and watching Bran learn how to spiritbend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this version of Valyria! I tried my best to incorporate elements from ATLA's Fire Nation, since Valyria is its 'equivalent' in ASOIAF world.  
> I'm still working on House Blackfyre's history's details in order to make sense into the worldbuilding I have so far. I'm having a bit of trouble avoiding plot holes :(  
> We'll go to Essos for the next chapters: one to check on Arya and another to check on Daenerys. Then, we'll go back to Team Avatar for their island vacation!


	32. Arya III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya arrives in Braavos and at the House of Black and White.  
> (Spot the ATLA character!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to be longer, but it ended early on its own xD

The Titan of Braavos stands tall and proud above the ship. Arya has long given up trying to fight against what is seemingly her fate.

When Syrio revealed himself and told her he was taking her to Braavos, she tried to run back to the docks. Staying in King's Landing seemed a far better option than being whisked away to an unknown city across the Narrow Sea. However, her waterbending instructor reminded her that her sister is risking her own safety for hers, and going back to the city could endanger her even more. "Besides", he added, "a girl is much safer in another continent than here."

It was the thought of her family in further danger because of her that settled it. She was far from happy about it—she still isn't—but even now sees no other choice.

When the ship finally stops by the docks, Syrio gives her a hooded jerkin—gods know where he found one that fits her relatively well—and guides her out. From her shadowed view, she sees the port is crowded and full of noises and life. A blue-haired man sings and dances to a small audience; another man, dark-skinned and middle-aged, tries to recollect cabbages that fell from his cart; a black-haired, pale-skinned woman sells bread while trying to avoid a disgusting-looking man stalking her from behind; children run and scream. Even though she can't understand a word of what they are saying, she sees enough to understand this is a lively city.

However, no observance skills help her get a grip on the path she follows Syrio through. It's a zig-zag through crowded and narrow streets, alternating with large avenues, until they reach a bridge. And then a second one.

Right as they cross this second bridge, a tall building pops up in her line of vision. A staircase leads to a black-and-white door. "Welcome", Syrio announces, "to the House of Black and White. This is where a girl must fulfill her destiny. _Valar morghulis."_

She turns to ask him what in the world he means, but suddenly he's no longer there. She looks around to find nobody in her vicinity. _I could just turn around and make my way back_ , she thinks. _I could go back to the docks and find a ship back North. Or, even if I'd rather stay in Essos, I could find a way to make my own living._ However, even as she entertains those thoughts, she is filled with a certainty they are nothing but fantasies. _Syrio may be silent and quick, but not fast enough to have already left this area. He won't let me go easily. He may say otherwise, but I'm his hostage, kept under his wing to fulfill whatever 'destiny' he thinks I have to follow._

With that thought, she goes upstairs and knocks. It is opened to reveal a tall, hazel-eyed, olive-haired, fair-skinned, bland-looking man. He eyes her up and down and says, "Arya Stark of Winterfell. Welcome to the House of Black and White."

He opens the door just enough to let her in. Inside, everything looks dark, although it might be because _everything is painted black_. A few things are painted white, though, allowing the sun to reflect on them and illuminate the place just enough for her not to trip at every step.

Numerous statues are spread across the place, surrounding what seems to be an artificial pool. "What are those statues?", she asks the bland-looking man.

"The Weeping Woman", he begins, pointing at the statue of a woman holding a bowl. "The Lion of Night, the Hooded Wayfarer, Bakkalon, the Moon-Pale Maiden, the Stranger, the Merling King… There are thirty statues here in total."

She frowns. "So many gods... Which one do your really worship here?"

He looks down at her, as if she had asked a stupid quetion. "All of them. None of them. This is the temple for the one god. The god of death. He of many faces."

O...kay? "Does _he_ have a name?"

The man hesitates, but eventually replies. "His name is seldom used, but it's Koh. It is not what matters most here, girl. What matters is what the girl seeks."

"I don't seek anything", she retorts. "I was _taken_ here, supposedly to fulfill my destiny, or whatever."

This time, the man doesn't miss a beat. "Precisely. A girl is a waterbender, is she not?" She nods, startled that he knows. Has Syrio contacted him somehow? "But a girl does not bend ice, or snow, or fog, or mud, or blood."

"Of course not. I take after my Tully mother."

"But a girl can learn. A girl can become a fully realized waterbender, if only she allows herself to learn the proper way."

Oh, now this is interesting. She may not be the Avatar, but she will be able to help Jon even more—and defend herself better against Robert Baratheon and his lackeys—if she masters all water specialties.

"What will be the price?", she asks, because she highly doubts this man does volunteer work.

He smiles gently. "Your service."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll have whole chapter dedicated to Arya's training - which will, of course, be VERY different than canon.


	33. Daenerys IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In possession of dragons and a drastic power increase, Daenerys goes to Myr so Cersei can write a letter to her father. Many surprises await her there.

She decides her dragons' names after a dream.

_A white-haired man dressed in flaming red robes comes through the door of a crimson-colored mansion. Turning around, he calls for his beloved. A silver-haired woman appears behind him, and they call their dragons. 'Fang', the man says, while the woman shouts, 'Shaw'._

_They exchange a kiss before mounting their dragons. In synch, Fang and Shaw go up in the sky. They fly across the entire city_ — _which possess an unique beauty, unlike anything in the Free Cities or across the Dothraki Sea_ — _and land on the top of a volcano._

_The scenery changes. A dark-haired boy with a scar around his left eye rides a dragon above a city of roofless towers and surrounded by volcanoes. He screams in despair and calls for the dragon he rides, 'Druk'. Next to him, another dragon falls, and screams can be heard._

Since she has no better ideas, she names them Druk (the white one), Fang (the greenish one) and Drogon (the black one)—she did not like the name Shaw, so she decides to pay a tribute to her sun-and-stars instead.

After the excitement of hatching dragon eggs and being truly acknowledged as queen, real life comes back to her when Cersei reminds her she needs to write to her father to pledge House Lannister's support. "I'm an exile, just like Ser Jorah. I can't rally the West all by myself."

With that in mind, she leads her _khalasaar_ —yes, hers now, composed of all dothraki who knelt before her after the dragons were born—to Myr, where, according to Ser Jorah, one can find an outpost to send letters to everywhere in Westeros.

It's a ridiculously long ride, but she doesn't mind it as much as she did when they went from Pentos to the Lhazareen city. For starters, they don't stop as often, since they have a precise destination, instead of just riding across the Dothraki Sea. That alone makes the journey faster. Secondly, now she can practice her bending in the open.

And _gods_ , how quickly she improved! It seems that her dragons' birth awakened something within her, for she was suddenly able to do things she had never been able to do—throw big fireballs, breathe fire from her own mouth, use fire to propel herself up in a jump… So many things! Granted, she still has to learn to _control_ these new powers, lest she accidentally burns her own tent or something else, but for someone who used to be a mere excuse of a firebender… She can _feel_ the flames in her veins. _It's almost as if I became a dragon myself!_

(The thought saddens her a little, because her inner child wishes for wings, but she quickly brushes these whims aside. She's a _khaleesi_ , proclaimed Queen of the Seven Kingdoms in Westeros. There is no time to be childish.)

Cersei helps her train in whatever way she can, despite her lack of experience with firebenders. "Your brother rarely bent in public, in respect to your non bender father", she explained one day. "Your mother spent most of her days out of the public eye. My brother might have seen them firebend, but—well, even if he had told me, it would be of little value right now."

The passing mention of the Kingslayer left her thinking for the rest of that day. _He wasn't only sworn to the king, but the rest of the royal family too. He could have been a source of information about my mother and brother_ — _perhaps he could tell things Viserys could not have known or remembered due to his young age._ But for that, she'd have to not only meet him, but trust him enough to hear his stories. She doubts it will ever come to that, even if his sister is her friend.

Whenever she finds a piece of metal—either lying around or buried a few feet under the sand—Cersei challenges her to draw a specific shape with her bending. "If you want to tame your powers to avoid destruction, the best way is to focus on a goal."

She fails more often than not, but once she managed to draw a triangle.

Ser Jorah offers mostly moral support, with a few feedbacks. Snowbending is next to impossible in the dry weather of the desert, and he says he's out of practice. "It would be dangerous to snowbend in the Free Cities", he explained, "especially so soon after my sentence. Then, as I went further east, it got harder and harder. It's been a few years since I last bent."

Midway to Myr, she remembers the firebender duels Viserys sneaked her into when they were in Lys. The fighters used a varied range of movements, but the most often performed were kicks and circular motions. _I should try these_ , she decides.

Cersei is initially surprised to see her training barefoot, but understands why as soon as a huge fire blow comes from her left foot. "This is new for me", she comments.

"I saw it once in Lys", Ser Jorah supplies. "Is that where you got the idea from, _khaleesi_?"

She nods. It's funny; while Cersei usually calls her 'Your Grace' or 'Queen Daenerys', Ser Jorah prefers her Dothraki title. "Viserys and I watched a few professional fighters there."

"And is that what you wish to learn?", he asks.

"I want to learn _everything_ about firebending", she replies without hesitation. "I'll be recognized as a master as well as a queen in Westeros. No one will dare question my rule then—not when their ancestors allowed Targaryens who did not bend fire solely due to their sex."

Even Viserys could not hide from her that their father was a non bender, nor that their line comes from Aegon IV, a lightningbender who disguised himself as a non bender so people would not crown his brother instead. There might have been other non bender Targaryen kings—she has yet to ask Cersei and Ser Jorah about it—but, if the nobles of Westeros allowed these two to rise to power, they have no moral ground to refuse to bend to her—especially when she is responsible for the return of dragons to the world.

* * *

Finally, they arrive in Myr—a city she hasn't been to in nearly ten years, if her memory is right. The Dothraki camp just outside the city walls, by her command—the last thing she needs is to wage an unreasonable war against the Myr innocent citizens. Even though she cannot change her people's culture overnight, she'd rather avoid as much bloodshed as possible.

After making sure everyone was settled, she goes with Cersei and Ser Jorah, taking Irri and one of her bloodriders along. "The outpost is near the docks", her Queensguard commander says. "We must cross the city to get there."

As they ride, she catches sight of people with strange marks on her skin. "Slaves", Ser Jorah points out when she asks.

"I thought slaves did not exist in the _Free_ Cities", she whispers, anger quickly rising in her throat.

"Myr is different in that aspect, unfortunately. They say there are three slaves for every freeborn."

She tightens her grip on her reins. _This is wrong_ , she thinks. _No one should be a slave. People should be free._

 _You could free these people_ , a voice whispers in her mind. _Them, and everyone who is a slave in other cities, such as Slaver's Bay. With dragons, no one will dare question if you pursue a quest to end slavery._

The voice is tempting, but one look at her allies tells her it isn't right. _I must take them back home_ , she reminds herself. _When I take my place as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, I'll have power and influence beyond my dragons to help these people. If I use my dragons to force their masters to free them, what will happen when I go back to Westeros anyway?_

 _Maybe Westeros is not your real home_ , the tempting voice whispers in response. _Home is the house with the red door, isn't it? You were sneaked out of Westeros as soon as you were born; you are only Westerosi because of a few stolen moments._

 _No_ , she argues to the voice. _I may have grown up in Essos, but I was raised by Westerosi, and Westerosi values were taught to me, not Essosi. I wouldn't be boiling with anger on these slaves' behalf if it hadn't been the case._

She is distracted from her mental debate when Ser Jorah points the outpost to her and Cersei. "What coin do you have with you, Lady Cersei?"

"Westerosi", she replies, producing a black purse. "Never had the need or opportunity to exchange it for local coin."

"It will likely suffice", he offers, "although it may be better if I accompany you to check if they will not try to get more than it's due in a fake conversion."

"I'll go too", Daenerys announces, although it's probably obvious.

The man working inside, fortunately, is fluent in Common Tongue, so Cersei doesn't need a translator for the negotiations. He does try to lie about how much she owes him in Westerosi coin, but Ser Jorah is quick to disprove his claim. The man pouts, but accepts the right value, and points her to where she can find parchment and pen to write.

At first, Daenerys thinks of leaving her friend and Hand alone while writing, but a voice that suspiciously sounds like Viserys reminds her not to trust people so blindly. So, gently, she asks to see the letter when it's finished. "I'm curious", she claims, but it's clear that Cersei knows the real reason.

_To the Lord of Casterly Rock,_

_I write to you, dear father, not as a mere exile anymore, but as Hand of Queen Daenerys Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms_ — _well, you know all the titles._

 _You may be wondering if I've finally gotten mad, given everything you must have heard of me after my exile_ — _gods only know what rumours have circulated. I do hope you've only trusted Tyrion's word; he's your only trustworthy source on what happened in Winterfell._

 _Well, this matters little now. What matters is this: soon after I arrived in Pentos, I met, by chance, with the exiled Targaryens. After all I've been through at Robert's hands_ — _you don't know half of it, I think only Jaime really does_ — _I wondered whether Aerys wasn't an unfortunate exception, and whether the Iron Throne should return to House Targaryen after all._

_With this in mind, I established an alliance with Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen by marrying the former, on the same day the latter wedded a Dothraki khal. Both of our husbands came to die, although at different times and under completely circumstances, but Daenerys was the one I grew the closest to._

_Daenerys Stormborn, she's called due to the day of her birth, but she's truly a storm_ — _in the best possible way. She stands up to what she thinks it's right, even putting her life in risk_ — _and her values are in the right place. After her husband's death, she inspired so much loyalty that, for the first time in known history, the Dothraki kneeled before a woman._

 _...Although I must admit, it wasn't just Daenerys herself that drove the men to bow to her. On her husband's funeral pyre, she placed dragon eggs gifted to her on her wedding. She's a firebender, taking after her mother instead of her father_ — _and I have seen enough of her to be sure she is more Rhaella's daughter than Aerys'._

 _The dragons hatched. No, I'm not japing. As I write, there are three tiny dragons playing with one another, learning to breathe fire. Daenerys' firebending improved exponentially after the hatching, and her people follow her faithfully_ — _not blindly, but aware that she has their best interests in mind._

_I know nothing about the current situation in Westeros, but, given Robert no longer has heirs and it will be a while before he gets those, I doubt it's stable. When Daenerys comes, I wish for you to side with us. I'm already Hand of the Queen, which will grant our House ample protection if you bend the knee to her._

_Although her reign has just begun, I'm proud to serve Queen Daenerys, and so will you be._

_With the best regards,_

_Cersei Lannister-Targaryen, Hand of the Queen_

"You flatter me", she says, chuckling.

"Father won't support you if he's not confident in your character", she replies. Then she smirks. "If I have to overpraise you, so be it."

"Oh, this is just sweet, fake words then", she teases back.

"Believe what you want, Your Grace."

The two laugh briefly. _It's good to have a friend._

* * *

When Cersei recites her name and the name the letter is addressed to, the man raises his eyebrows incredibly high. "You're a Lannister", he states, surprised.

"Yes", her Hand replies slowly. "Why is that… important?"

He runs a hand through his half-green, half-black hair. "I have a friend who is awaiting to meet a Lannister", he replies. "He says he has a gift from the Lannister friend he lost."

Cersei's eyes go wide at that. "Who was this Lannister friend?"

"I don't know his name", the man admits, "but he came here from the Old Valyria peninsula. He was really sick—I remember hearing that from my friend—and died less than a month later. Apparently, he left some sort of inheritance, and trusted my friend to pass it to the next Lannister he saw."

Cersei looks pleadingly at her, and she nods. She turns back to the man. "Please, take us to him."

"Of course, let me just finish sealing your letter."

An hour later, they follow the man—Lynak, he calls himself—across half of the city, until they reach a rich house painted in white and light blue. "His name is Pascal", Lynak informs them. "Let me get you inside."

He tells a maid (or a slave? She can't say), in bastard Valyrian, that a Lannister wants to meet Pascal. The woman goes inside to report to her boss (master?) and soon returns to open the doors for them.

A man dressed in an olive-colored jerkin and grey pants, along with a grayish blue shirt, introduces himself as Pascal. He holds a long wooden box, which he places on a table. "Which Lannister are you?"

"Cersei Lannister", her Hand declares, curtseying briefly.

Recognition dawns on Pascal's face. "You must be his niece then", he says. "I was expecting his nephew… what is the name he gave me? Oh—Jaime."

"That would be my twin brother", she replies. "He was recently sent to the Night's Watch in Westeros, so he is unable to come here. Are you talking about… my uncle Gerion?"

"Yes, yes", he replies with a smile. "A good friend I made before he sailed to Valyria, against my advice—and everyone else's, truth be told. He came back here terminally ill; I was honestly surprise that he got out of that hellhole at all, and with is task completed."

"His task completed—", Cersei cuts herself off with a gasp, seemingly understanding something. She motions to the box. "Is this—"

"Yes", he replies, more softly this time. "I wish I could keep it to myself—it's very valuable after all—but I could not betray my friend. Open it, my lady."

Carefully, as if the wooden box would break otherwise, Cersei opens it. She grabs it and pulls it up. A bright sword comes out. "Brightroar", she whispers.

"The very one", Pascal agrees. "And, as a Lannister, it is yours."

* * *

After they are out of Myr, Cersei tells her all about the sword and her uncle who retrieved it. "Valryian steel swords are extremely rare, especially in Westeros, and many got lost over the years. Your House had two of those, but one got lost to the Blackfyres—named after the sword, might I add—and the other got lost beyond the Wall. House Lannister had Brightroar, but it was lost even before Aegon the Conqueror defeated the last Lannister king. Tommen II sailed with it to Valyria to find riches and never came back."

"And your uncle?"

"Uncle Gerion took it upon himself to retrieve the family's ancestral sword", she replies, a bit sadly. "We were never close, but my brothers loved him. He left Casterly Rock almost a decade after the rebellion, and never returned. Father has been treating him as dead since my second son's birth."

All three of them test their bending with the sword—even Ser Jorah manages to draw water from air to make it into snow. She knew, from Viserys, that Valyrian steel was special not only for its rarity, but because its use enhanced one's bending. There are special bending moves designed specifically for the use of a Valyrian steel sword or dagger, and although she knew nothing about those, she hopes to learn someday.

"Why did he expect your brother?", she asks out of curiosity.

"I can't be entirely sure", she admits, "but it might be because Jaime is the only one out of us three who was truly interested in fighting—therefore, the one in whose hands this sword would be the most useful."

Oh well, that's fair. "Do you want to go back to that outpost and write to your father about your discovery?"

Cersei perks up at that. "I didn't think of it", she admits. "But it's a good idea."

They ride back to the outpost. Lynak doesn't try to lie to them about costs this time—actually, since he hadn't sent her first letter yet, he charges a much smaller fee.

When they go back to her _khalasaar_ , one of her bloodriders, Rhakaro, announces they've caught a prisoner. "Bring me to him", she asks, curious as to who it might be.

When she enters the tent, she is greeted by a silver-haired, purple-eyed young man. "Daenerys Targaryen?" She nods. "Well, I must say I had hoped to meet you under different circumstances. My name is Aegon Blackfyre, although I've been raised as your deceased nephew, Aegon VI Targaryen. Pleasure to meet you, fake aunt."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Fang, Shaw and Druk are canon ATLA dragon names.  
> \- Myrish citizens indeed have slaves in their possession.  
> \- Everything about Brightroar's history is canon! The only non-canon part is the one in which Gerion managed to retrieve it from Old Valyria. All we know is that he's been MIA for almost a decade.  
> Next, we'll get to see Team Avatar's island vacation! Despite this twist, it will be a while before we return to Daenerys, Cersei, Jorah and Aegon. This chapter begins shortly after Cersei II, but, due to the time that it takes for the trip they made, it ends several months in the future. Only when our main timeline meets theirs we'll get back to them.


	34. Jaime V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Island vacation!

Jaime missed the burning sun over his head. Only now, feeling the autumn breeze tickling his beard, he realizes how much. _And I'll go back to missing it soon_ , he thinks sadly. _When Jon is finished with his training in Westeros, I'll go back to the Wall and the gloomy sky of the North._

He shakes these thoughts off. He still has a few months in the South before he and Jon part ways, so why bother think about it?

"You look happy", he hears a voice behind him—Lady Brienne's, he recognizes easily.

He turns to her and is met by her blue eyes. There is something about them that instantly calms him down, no matter the situation. It's been like this since she first held him down while he endured the pain of Jon's healing sessions, and it only got more intense when he told her his deepest secrets and she accepted his words as truth. Perhaps it's because her shade of blue is the exact opposite of the one that wight carried— _that_ blue has haunted many of his nightmares. Hers makes him think of _life_ , in a way no other eye color has.

Actually, he never thought much about someone's eye color before Brienne. Not even Cersei's—why, if it was identical to his own?

"I am", he replies, more softly than he expected from himself. "I've never realized how much I took the sun for granted until I moved to the Wall."

"You've lived through winter once", she remarks, "haven't you? I remember being a winter child, and I was born three years before Aerys' death."

It's the first time she gives information on her age. He already guessed her to be significantly younger than him, but that sentence alone gives it away that she is nineteen at oldest. "You're the same age as Ygritte", he comments. "And yes, I served Aerys in winter, and the same goes for the first years of Robert's reign. But I was either in King's Landing or in Casterly Rock, and snow doesn't affect those places much, and in the Rock the sky is open during most of winter."

She nods slowly, as if in contemplation. Before he can stop himself, his eyes dart to her freckles. He's never seen so many of them on a single person's skin before. Is it due to the amount of time she likely spent outdoors training? Her skin is as white as marble, so perhaps it's to be expected. _It's almost as if her skin was the sky, and her freckles the stars_ —

He closes his eyes and wills these thoughts away. It's completely inappropriate to think of her in such a way, especially when he's a member of the Night's Watch and she's a highborn maid. Now with Cersei far away, never to be his to hold again, he has no intention of breaking his vows anymore. Letting his assessment of Lady Brienne border into poetry won't help either of them…

Although he still doesn't understand how anyone could call her 'as ugly as a cow'. She may not be the most beautiful woman in the realm—that title belongs to his twin, obviously—and her body build may look a bit too similar to a man's, but she ordinarily looking, at _worst_. Looking at her requires no effort on his part.

"So", he begins, clearing his throat, "are you really sure your family will welcome us? Jon, Ygritte and I are all being chased by the Crown."

"I can vouch for you three", she replies instantly. "None of you have done anything wrong to earn this fate."

"I wouldn't put myself in this list", he mumbles, because he has his fair share of sins.

"Because you're a… Ser Sisterfucker?"

Oh gods, he can't help but laugh. Ygritte's mock title for him sounds extra funny coming from her mouth. "Well, it did get me exiled to the Wall…"

She nods to the side. "I don't think I'll ever understand how you were able to lay with your own sister, but that isn't why the king wants your head."

His mirth dies instantly. "No, it's not. Although he did want it at first for cuckolding him, as Jon told the King-beyond-the Wall." He grins again.

She chuckles, and he happens to find the sound adorable. "Jon seems to have a way with words…"

"His best Avatar ability, no doubt."

She takes a deep breath, stopping her own laugh, and shakes her head, still grinning. "Don't worry. My father and brother trust my judgement."

* * *

None of them—Jon, Ygritte and Jaime—are recognized when they leave the ship, as Brienne refrains from giving their names in the open. Only when they are within the walls of Evenfall, she pulls her father and brother aside to properly introduce them all.

"This is my father, Lord Selwyn Tarth", he says, pointing at the tall and buffy man. Then points at the younger man holding a can. "And this is my brother Galladon, heir to Evenfall Hall. Father, brother, this is… the Team Avatar."

He swallows a groan. Ever since that red priest proclaimed them 'Team Avatar', Jon has coined it as the official name of their group. He finds it dull and unoriginal, to be honest, but he fears voicing his thoughts and having Ygritte come up with an even worse name.

Her brother tightens his hold on his cane and frowns. "Brie… do you mean that you met the _Avatar_? And one of them is it?"

Jon steps ahead. "It is me, my lord", he says solemnly. " _I_ am the Avatar. These two beside me", he points to him and Ygritte, "have travelled with me since the beginning, staying faithfully at my side despite all troubles we've faced on the road. Lady Brienne has pledged herself to me as my sworn shield—one I'm proud to have next to me."

Lord Selwyn and Lord Galladon exchange glances, and suddenly they bow to Jon. The poor boy stammers that there is no need, and Jaime can't help but laugh. "Get used to it, Jon", he says, patting his shoulder. "Half of Westeros is after you, sure, but the other half will be in awe of you when they meet you."

"There is nothing to be in awe of", he mumbles.

"When they get to know you, no, there isn't", he teases, "but, as you just said it, you _are_ the Avatar, a legend reborn. So… get used to it."

"And who are you", Lord Galladon asks, "if you don't mind us asking?"

He glances at Brienne, who nods, and turns back to her brother. "The… false Avatar, I suppose. Jaime Lannister of the Night's Watch."

Lord Selwyn looks about to choke, and his son laughs. "Hey, Brie", he calls his sister, "have you checked if you can beat the _Kingslayer_ in a bending duel?"

The lady in question groans, and Jaime wonders if this is some sort of inside joke between the two siblings. He never had those with Cersei, although he has memories of sharing a few with Tyrion. "We were a bit _busy_ running away from the law, brother."

"I have heard that the King wants the Avatar's head", her father muses. "Something about eliminating Targaryens?" He looks at Jon. "But you are clearly northern-looking. Oh, wait—who is the charming lady over there?"

"No lady", Ygritte replies automatically. "Er, sorry. But my point stands. I'm of the Free Folk. We don't use… this word for ourselves. Ygritte. Pleased to meet you… m'lord."

It's such an awkward introduction that he lets out a chuckle. Lord Selwyn just nods. "Alright… if you are not a lady, what do I call you?"

"My name is just fine, m'lord."

"Alright then, Ygritte. Have it your way. Now, where was I—oh, well, young boy", he turns back to Jon, "why does the King think you are a Targaryen?"

Jon sighs and hides his hands in his breeches' pockets. "Because I am", he admits. "I don't know how he found out—we have suspicions, but no real clue. It was supposed to be a secret. I'm Rhaegar Targaryen's son with Lyanna Stark, and I've been hiding as Lord Eddard's bastard since my birth."

Lord Galladon gapes at them, and Lord Selwyn coughs, seemingly having choked for real this time. Brienne suggests that they all sit—which, frankly, they should have since they arrived at this solar—and distracts her family by telling the story of how she came to meet them. Not that it helps—her father already knew about her captivity, but its details still shocked him—but at least no one is fretting over Jon's identity anymore.

Even though he already knows all of what she is telling them, he can't help but pay attention. _She has a rather soothing voice_ , he thinks. _She could put a child into sleep by telling a story easily._ Unbidden, the image of a baby version of Brienne comes to mind, being lulled to sleep by her mother's voice—

Oh fuck. _Stop it, you idiot._ But no, his mind doesn't leave him alone. Instead, it focuses on the baby's face. It is near-identical to her mother's, but her eyes are green—

 _I fell in love with Brienne, didn't I?_ He suppresses a groan; how typical of him, falling for women out of his reach. First it was Cersei—neither of them cared that their love was forbidden, but still—now Brienne—though this time, it's her who's the problem, but his status as a member of the Night's Watch, sworn (once again) to celibacy.

With Cersei, he had not cared if he had dishonored her that night in Eel Alley. It had been _her_ idea in the first place! His only concern was whether they'd be caught or not. With Brienne, he can't even entertain the idea of _kissing_ her. Any move of his part could ruin her reputation and her chances of getting a master title, which is obviously her dream. And, even if she no longer sees him as such, in the eyes of the realm he remains an oathbreaker and an honorless man. He refuses to drag Brienne into this.

The only problem is maintaining his resolve with her so close for the next few months. Okay, he supposes stopping himself from kissing or fucking her will be easy; _this_ kind of self-control is one he's mastered over the years. But will he be able to stop gazing at her longingly? With his sister, he avoided it by hanging his lead low or darting his eyes around the room, as a proper Kingsguard should.

He's pretty sure he's gazing longingly at Brienne _now_. He glances away to look at Jon, who stares at him with eyebrows raised. Oh fuck.

* * *

He successfully avoids Jon's pestering by asking the Tarths where the marble mines are. "Lady Brienne says mining them is part of her metalbending training", he explains. "I'd like to see how different it is from gold mining, if you allow me."

Her father gives them permission, and Lord Galladon follows his sister as she guides them to the mines, located almost on the other side of the island. He tries not to look _too awed_ as she extracts a huge piece of marble without even touching it, and lets Jon do the praise as he is suddenly caught by a fit of coughs.

"Do you want to try it, Ser Jaime?", her brother asks politely.

He raises his right hand and shakes his head. "I'd need both of my hands for this", he replies, "and my right one is still healing from several broken bones."

"May I ask how that happened?"

"The first bones were broken in a fist fight in Harrenhal's dungeons", he supplies, not bothering to add he only got into that fist fight because he was furious at the men who wanted to rape Brienne and Ygritte. "The rest was smashed by the Mountain."

"Who he killed!", Ygritte adds behind him.

Lord Galladon looks at him up and down and nods. "The Mountain? As in Gregor Clegane?" He nods. "That's quite a feat, Ser. I hope the tale spreads someday, when the Crown takes the price off your head."

"He shouted the royal family's names as he killed him", Brienne adds, and his heart skips a beat at the acknowledgement. "Elia, Aegon and Rhaenys. Said it was for them."

Her brother's eyes go wide. It's like he's looking at him under a new light. "I suppose you are not as evil as people make you out to be", he says after a short silence.

He shrugs. "Any knight that actually values their title would do that."

"They would _want to_ ", Jon counters, "but not every knight is a master metalbender, Jaime."

"You know what I meant."

"Still. What would the Blackfish have done? Hit him with water whips until he choked?"

"Considering the Blackfish is a _Grandmaster_ waterbender", he reminds him dryly, "I can think of a few ways he could finish the Mountain off as efficiently as I did. Use another example."

They keep on their banter until Lord Galladon returns to the matter of his hand. "We have waterbender healers in the isle, if you want to meet them. They saved me when I got into a nearly fatal accident; I'm sure a few broken bones will be easy for them."

"Most of the damage was healed by Jon already", he replies. "The problem is the hand's functionality. If I use it today to bend or fight, I might break these bones all over again."

Lord Galladon keeps the offer up, and he thanks him as they head back to Evenfall.

* * *

Jon decides to use ocean water for that night's healing session. He sits down on the sand, and Jon asks Brienne to hold him from behind with a knowing grin that tells Jaime he's fully aware of the effect that action will have in him.

"Hey Ygritte", he calls the girl, because she is _always_ there with them, "what was that song that the Arryn boy lord liked to hear you sing?"

He focuses on her frown as the first wave of pain comes. "You mean the one about Scarborough?"

"Yes—ouch—that one. Mind singing it—ouch—again? Never heard it—ouch—full."

She begins to sing, and he makes an effort to focus on her voice instead of Brienne's arms holding him tight. It doesn't work as well as he'd hoped—he can't ignore the warmth of her skin against him, even with his clothes coming between their skins—but at least he catches the whole lyrics this time.

"What kind of fair, or city, was this?", he asks after the pain is over. "The woman in the song asks her lover for impossible things."

"I've never heard this song before", Brienne comments, still holding him. He has to fight every instinct to lean into her touch.

Ygritte glances away. "I don't even know if Scarborough ever existed", she replies. "As far as I know, it's a legendary city. It is said, among the Free Folk, that it was a place where everything was possible if driven by love, hence the song lyrics."

He feels sleep creeping in, as it always does after a healing session. "Sounds like a lovely place", he murmurs, yawning.

Brienne takes her arms off him, but before he can feel absurdly cold, she grabs his hands to lift him up.

* * *

Over the course of two days, he is cornered and interrogated about his newfound feelings for Brienne by Jon, Ygritte and _Lord Galladon_. "How long have you been in love with my sister, Ser Jaime?", he asks without preamble.

He looks down at his lap. They are on a bench outside, watching Jon and Brienne spar. "I don't know for sure", he admits. "I've only realized it when I came here, but it was sooner."

Probably when she showed him compassion after he confessed why he killed Aerys. Brienne was, indeed, the first—and so far only—person to ever bother _asking_ him, and she didn't reject his answer as an excuse, as he so often feared people would do if he tried to explain himself.

It wasn't just that, though, he thinks. Her soothing eyes who kept him grounded while he suffered the pain of Jon's healing sessions helped, as well as her proficiency in bending. He had been in awe of Cersei for less, so it isn't really surprising that seeing Brienne metalbending always leaves him mesmerized.

He raises his gaze to find Lord Galladon giving him a rather unimpressed glare. "And what do you intend to do with these feelings of yours?"

"Nothing, my lord", he replies, lifting his chin. "I'm sworn to the Night's Watch, never to take a wife or father children."

"You said these same vows when you joined the Kingsguard", he replies, "and yet I hear the wildling girl calling you 'Ser Sisterfucker' every two hours."

 _Clearly you're not paying that much attention if you have to wait two hours between each time she calls me that._ "We are talking about _very_ different situations, my lord", he replies, proud that his voice does not waver. "With all due respect, you know nothing of Cersei and I. Trying to compare my relationship with her to my feelings for your sister is impractical. I don't intend to dishonor Lady Brienne, only to keep her safe and happy."

"And what if her happiness was you?" _Don't you dare make me dream._ "Would you break your vows then?"

He straightens his back. "This should not be a concern", he replies carefully. "Lady Brienne is sworn to Jon, as you are aware. She will follow him wherever he goes, while I'm bound to Westeros due to my oaths. Our days together are numbered, my lord. We'll soon go our different ways, and your sister will most likely forget about me."

It hurts to even think about it, but he has to remind himself of their impending parting. Perhaps Brienne won't really _forget_ him—he's the Kingslayer, not someone easily forgettable—but he will certainly become just a passing moment in her life. She will remember him whenever someone mentions Aerys or wildfire, but nothing other than the memory of a night in an inn where they were forced to share a bed and ended up sharing a secret.

Jaime knows himself, however; he is unlikely to forget Brienne anytime soon. It will take years for him to get over her, if he ever does. He will spend his days pining for her from the far north while she makes a name for herself as the Avatar's sworn sword and a metalbending master.

Lord Galladon's eyes travel around him, as if looking for answers to all of his questions on his face. Finally, he speaks up. "My sister seems to respect you. I don't know what you did to her, or told her, but Brienne is a good judge of character. She would not have brought you here if she didn't trust you, so I'm willing to give you the benefit of doubt."

"We don't plan on staying here long", he says, "but I appreciate your kindness, my lord."

"Good, then we're done here."

* * *

They spend ten days on the island. Ygritte loved Tarth and wanted to spend more time there—frankly, so did he—but Jon is anxious to go to Dorne. Lord Selwyn arranges a ship sailing straight to Sunspear for them.

Brienne's goodbyes to her father and brother look rather emotional from a distance, and he smiles softly at the sight—although not without a pang of envy. His father never treated him the way Lord Selwyn treats his children: with love and care, seeing them as people instead of cyvasse pieces.

"Stop grinning like an idiot", Jon says. "She will see."

His smile— _smile_ , not grin—falls immediately, and he turns to follow him and Ygritte aboard. Brienne shows up not long later, and soon the ship sails.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm leaving this warning in all my ongoing fics as I update them: starting this Ash Wednesday (17), Lent begins, going up until March 28th, and I won't read or write fanfic in this period. As the Catholic Church allows us to get reprieves every Sunday, on these days I'll show up again in AO3 and my Google Docs. However, I can't guarantee I'll write entire chapters in one day, so I can't guarantee weekly updates. I might not be able to update some stories at all. I'll still read and answer to comments, just not as often I do today.  
> I ask you to be patient, as Lent is a very important time of the year for me as a Catholic, and I don't plan on breaking it - my time spent with fanfic is bordering on unhealthy, to be honest, so I really need to do this.  
> This chapter was my last of this story before Lent. Hopefully I'll update once more during this period, a chapter set in either King's Landing or Sunspear. Tell me what you want to see in this story's future updates, and what you're thinking of it so far. Your reviews bring me joy <3


	35. Sansa II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Queen Margaery gives birth, and Sansa's status as the Crown's hostage changes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First Lent reprieve, yay!  
> I must say, these past few days took a strain on me. I overworked, thanks to COVID-19, and I had to find other ways to distract my mind from work. Buuut I got some more study done, which I wasn't getting before, so it was good.  
>  **Important** : if you go to the first chapter, you'll see I added the subtitle 'Book One: Westeros'. I had once thought of splitting this story in three parts, but ultimately decided on keep the whole story in one work only. Regardless, there is a division for this story, and I'll mark it in the chapter's text.

She distinctively remembers Rickon's birth. Mother screamed so loud, it was said it could be heard in all of Winterfell, and Father left the birth chambers with decreased hearing for days afterwards.

But here's the key detail: _Father was there_. For that memory, Sansa had thought husbands are always present at their children's births. But no, it's not the case for everyone. Father's (former?) best friend _leaves the castle_ when Margaery goes into labor—and she overhears someone saying he did the same when Cersei's bastards were born.

(She wonders—was the Kingslayer there, holding his sister-lover's hand? Of course, she'd never ask such a question, even if she wasn't being held hostage.)

As Sansa is no longer the queen's lady-in-waiting, she only hears of the birth hours after it happens, when Ser Loras comes to her saying his sister wants to see her. He frowns when saying that, as if he can't understand why. He doesn't seem to know that Margaery aided Arya's escape—an event that put her and Father in trouble, but quickly attributed to her sister's small size and adventurous nature.

As Ser Loras opens the door, she catches sight of the queen lying on a clean bed, her head resting on three pillows. The knight closes the door, leaving the two alone, and Sansa notices she is feeding her baby. "Come see her", Margaery calls, smiling softly.

Reluctantly, she obeys, sitting down on a chair next to the queen. "Where are your ladies?", she asks.

"They've come and gone", she replies. "I wanted you to see her too, and since I can't have you near them anymore…" The baby burps, and she chuckles as she takes her off her breast. "This is Arwyn Baratheon, heiress to the Iron Throne. Come, hold her."

There is no hesitance this time; Sansa has practice in holding babies, thanks to Bran and Rickon. She carefully takes Arwyn from her mother's grasp and raises her head to her eye level. The newborn princess has dark hair and hazel eyes, just like her mother. "She's beautiful", Sansa whispers.

"Indeed", the queen agrees. "Thank you for all your support, Lady Sansa." She looks at Margaery, startled, but she doesn't have time to counter that. "You've given me more tips than any other lady in this castle, even my grandmother, who seems to have forgotten how it was to be pregnant. If it wasn't for you, I'd have been tempted to ask my husband to bring his former wife back to assist me." She chuckles at her own words. "I know you were sharing your mother's experience, not yours, but it was much helpful. And you've been holding yourself spectacularly well, given your troubles. I will do all I can to relieve you and your father from this."

Sansa nods, handing little Arwyn back. She is unsure of how Margaery intends to fulfill her promises. As expected, Jon hasn't shown up or given any signs that he's alive, and neither has Mother. There was a letter from Maester Luwin claiming she was unwell and unable to travel, which has calmed the King now for a while, but she can see he's growing agitated again. "I am already grateful for your help, Your Grace", she whispers back. "For what you've done to Arya, and the trust you've placed upon my family."

Margaery grimaces. "Only a fool would deem the Avatar a threat", she states as a way of answering her gratitude. "Even if he was the _Kingslayer_. And I may not be able to do much, but I won't back up my husband's thirst for Targaryen blood. Now that I'm… suitable for my marital duties again, perhaps I can use it in your favor."

Sansa gasps. "No, Your Grace", she all but begs. "We are not worth this—"

"Your kin's lives are at stake, Lady Sansa, as well as yours. It is a small price to pay, and I won't hear you protest over it again."

That effectively shuts her up, and she only nods in gratitude before leaving.

* * *

A sennight after Princess Arwyn's birth, Ser Loras goes to her door. "Get ready for the feast tonight in the princess' honor", he tells her mechanically. Then he extends a hairnet for her. "And wear this", he instructs. "It's a gift from House Tyrell."

She grabs it and thanks him before closing her door and examining the hairnet. It's decorated with black gems, unlike anything she'd expect from the Tyrells—and _who_ does Ser Loras mean by 'House Tyrell'? Queen Margaery? Her grandmother? One of the queen's cousins/handmaidens? Ser Loras himself?

Regardless, she knows she must wear it tonight, so she picks a grey dress to go with it. As always, she icebends small flakes on her braided hair, to remind everyone she is a Stark—no matter how bad her House's reputation is now.

She meets her father on their way to the hall, and nobody stops her from hugging him tight. "I missed you so much, Father", she nearly cries.

He hugs her back. "I missed you too, Sansa", he whispers.

They walk together to the hall and sit side by side. No one really stops them.

The Queen passes by their table to present her daughter to them, with her cousin Elinor by her side. Her grandmother passes by to tell her of her betrothal to Luthor Tyrell. "It will all depend on whether the king will release you or imprison", she admits. "I do hope it's the former case."

Ser Loras stands near them, watching them over, most of the time, except for when he switches with Ser Mandon Moore.

The king does not bother coming to them.

She makes small talk with her father as they dine and watch the crowd. She wishes they could hold real, meaningful conversations, but all of the possible subjects are forbidden here, so she enjoys her father in whatever way she can.

The king proposes a toast for his daughter and heir, and they all cheer. Not long afterwards, though, he begins to choke.

Her father stands up and tries to rush to his (former) friend's aid, but Ser Mandon stops him. The two of them watch helplessly as King Robert falls to the floor, gasping. Too many people surround him for them to _see_ what is happening, but they can hear the gasps growing more and more desperate until they stop.

"The king is dead!", someone shouts.

Chaos ensues, and Ser Mandon holds both of them tight. Neither she or Father try to resist, fully aware of the implications of their actions, but Ser Loras marches to them with furious eyes anyway. "The king was poisoned", he snarls. "You are among the main suspects. Ser Mandon, lead Lord Stark to the dungeons. I'll scort Lady Sansa back to her chambers."

* * *

In the end, her hairnet incriminates her. When she argues that it was Ser Loras who gave it to her, claiming it to be a gift from his House, no one believes her, and she goes further in trouble by 'trying to place blame on the Queen's family'.

Renly Baratheon, who is the new Regent now that baby Arwyn is Queen, orders her to be sent to the Silent Sisters in Duskendale, while her father is to await judgement in the cells—for, if she did the deed, he must be the one who ordered it.

Her last visitor is Lord Varys, coming from the secret passages. "I cannot sneak you out this time", he laments, "but I can pass a message to you. You won't like it, though."

Her heart sinks. "What is it?"

"Lady Arya was never spotted in White Harbor. Whatever happened, her ship did not make it there."

She's crying when Ser Barristan comes to fetch her and take her to the ship to Duskendale. They all assume it's due to her punishment, but what is a life with the Silent Sisters in comparison to the news that her sister has no life at all to live anymore?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is canon that Robert left the Red Keep and went hunting every time Cersei gave birth. It is not stated what Jaime did in these times; I'd guess he stood guard by her door.  
> Needless to say, Sansa will no longer be our eyes in King's Landing. Our new KL narrator will most likely be Margaery, but it will take a while for us to see her again.


	36. Aegon II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aegon's (mis)adventures before meeting Daenerys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, chapter 36 was supposed to be about Jon's time in Dorne. However, Jon's chapter will be the last of Book One, and I realized placing this chapter in it made way more sense than pushing it to Book Two.  
>  **Warning:** this chapter contains mild depictions of torture. It is a brief history account, but still.

His first act before leaving is cleaning his hair of any and all dye. His Valyrian features are rather common in Essos, so showing them off means nothing—in fact, it helps to make him pass by mostly unnoticed, something his hair dye did not allow.

Despite his belief that his true name bears next to no meaning, he decides to adopt an alias. After a nightmare, he picks the name Zuko for himself—in the dream, it was the name given to the one good guy amidst the cruel men who wanted to kill him.

When he leaves the house, he's unsure of where to go. With Jon going back to Griffin's Roost and Ashara just as lost, he has yet to pick a place. After some thought, he decides the best option is a city he hasn't been to yet—which excludes Braavos, Tyrosh, Myr and Lys. After checking a map randomly on sale, he picks the closest Free City that would be new to him: Norvos.

He finds an inn in the southernmost point of Pentos to sleep in for the night, and in the morning he goes to the gates to find a caravan to insert himself in. A woman with pink hair, Ty Lee, allows him to follow her as long as he helps setting camp every night. He obviously agrees; it's a small price to pay, and he's used to harder work in his time aboard the _Shy Maid_.

The first half of the trip is downright boring and tiresome, as they cross a small desert. Aegon's fingers itch to bend every morning, to the point he has to wake up before everyone else if he wants to bend. His physical features may be commonplace, but Zuko, a peasant, should not bend lightning at all—such an ability belongs to either a Rogare or a Blackfyre, with _very few_ exceptions. He's not interested in making up a story to pass up as an exception, or in feigning ignorance about his origins only to have people try to investigate his 'secret ancestry' to explain his bending.

Fortunately, Ty Lee likes her tent to be set up at the camp's edge, so it's easy for him to sneak out and go away to meditate—the firebending meditation he learned works quite well for lightningbending—and practice. However, since she's also an early riser, he doesn't have much time for himself.

As the sand is replaced by soil and grass, and the nothingness gives away to trees, it gets easier for him to sneak out of her view. Things get even better for him when it begins to rain at night, and the mornings turn cloudy. No one questions an increase in lightning, so he relaxes a bit.

In daytime, he engages in conversation with Ty Lee and other travelers. They are all producers who go to Norvos and Qohor regularly to sell their products. His 'boss' sells pre-made and commissioned clothes and veils; another woman, Izumi, sells homemade beverages; Zhao, a friend of Ty Lee, makes intricate furniture by commissions.

In this trip, both Ty Lee and Zhao are carrying commissioned goods to the same client. "She married a Westerosi", Ty Lee tells him. "A… what is the name of those guys who rule over Dorne?"

Aegon has to fight the urge to answer, but thankfully Izumi is fast. "House Martell", she replies. "I think they name themselves 'princes' and 'princesses', even though everyone kneels before that Iron Throne of theirs."

Dornish history is on the tip of his tongue, thanks mostly to Ashara's lessons. How their people resisted, time after time, the Targaryens' conquest efforts. The story of how Queen Rhaenys Targaryen and her dragon still sends chills through his body: after successfully shooting an ironbolt in the Meraxes' eye, leading to her fall alongside Rhaenys right on one of Hellhot's towers.

"When Lord Uthor Uller went to retrieve the Queen's body", she told him at the time, "he found her alive—barely conscious and gravely injured, though. Prince Nymor was with him and decided to send King Aegon a message through Rhaenys. He placed Rhaenys inside a casket and bent sand inside her—through her mouth, ears, nose, cunt and ass, until she finally laid dead. Then he filled the rest of the casket with _more_ sand and sent her remains to Aegon alongside Meraxes' skull."

Over a century and a half went by until King Daeron II made peace with Dorne through his marriage to Princess Myriah Martell and the addition of several Dornishmen to his court. It left an opening for his father's bastards to rebel, and there was a lot of trouble when the king died leaving only his fourth son Maekar as firebender, but the long-term results are still noticeable today, according to Ashara.

He doesn't say any of this to his traveling companions, though. Zuko is a lowborn, illiterate, non bender Pentoshi who knows absolutely nothing about Westeros.

"Yes, the Martells", Ty Lee says in response. "Well, this lady is Norvish, but left her home to marry the Martell prince. They were in love, I think, but apparently their love didn't last, for she returned to Norvos not so long ago. They are still married, but it's more of a formality."

"He kept the children in Dorne, though", Zhao adds. "Something about being his heirs."

Naturally, Zuko has no input to offer, but Aegon thinks about what he just learned as they cut their way through the forest. The current Prince of Dorne is Doran Martell, as far as Ashara and Jon know. His 'septa' did tell him once that he married a foreigner woman, Mellario, for love, but said nothing of a separation—then again, if this is recent news, she likely never found out. Before he stated he would propose marriage to his 'aunt' Daenerys, Jon wanted to wed him to Arianne Martell, Doran's firstborn and heir, to make sure Dorne would back them up—as if being Elia's son would not be enough.

He sighs. Lady Mellario is unlikely to look at him and assume he's anything other than what he currently claims to be, so it's a moot point to think about her.

When they are half a day's ride from the city gates, Ty Lee goes around the camp offering a temporary chi block. When he asks her why, she frowns at him. "Do you not know of the Norvish ban on bending?"

He shakes his head, and she sighs. "It's a good thing you don't bend then, Zuko. Bending has been banned from Norvos since… gods, I don't even remember when. Something about a war with the Ibbenese, I think. Point is, the bearded priests forbid people from bending within the city walls, so the safest option for a bender is to have their chi blocked during their stay." A man shouts that they want her help, so she goes after him, and Aegon follows. "Of course, anyone born a bender is kicked out along with their families. Probably another reason why Lady Mellario did not bring her children along—maybe even the _main_ one."

"Does this happen somewhere else?", he asks, trying to not show his concern. "Or is it a Norvish thing only?"

"As far as I know, Norvos is the only place where bending is illegal", she replies firmly. "Of course, it would be unwise to bend while among a _khalasaar_ —you know what it is, don't you?" He nods— _every_ Essosi knows about the Dothraki. "Well, I wouldn't bend near them, but I'm not sure if they count for you."

"I was thinking of cities", he agrees.

"Then it's only Norvos."

He suppresses a sigh of relief. He won't stay in Norvos any longer than needed for Ty Lee to sell her goods, but he doesn't _have_ to go back to Pentos. There is Qohor nearby, not to mention many other cities across Essos he can pick as his new home.

* * *

Lady Mellario looks at him in confusion and says he reminds her of her 'husband's late goodbrother', but otherwise gives no comment on him and his appearance. He helps Ty Lee with unpacking and money checking. The pink-haired woman offers to pay him in return for his services, but he refuses. "I helped you in exchange for safe transport", he reminds her. "You fulfilled your end of our bargain."

She nods then. "I suppose you are not coming back with us, are you?"

"No", he admits. "I'm heading to Qohor."

"Then do take this coin", she insists. "You'll need it to pay for your trip."

He ends up taking it, not out of real need, but to keep his disguise—he's managed to hide his coin bag and Blackfyre all the way to Norvos, he won't give himself away now.

Luckily, he finds yet another sales caravan, this time to Qohor. He gangs up with a Norvish tapestry seller named Kuei, whose eccentric talks spare him of sharing his made up backstory.

The way between the two cities is marked by an increasingly dense forest, just as rainy as when he was near Norvos during his first trip. The bridge over the Qhoyne river is slightly unstable, meaning a few can cross at the same time. Kuei stands at the end of the line, and only by the beginning of the night do they cross the bridge.

High stone walls greet them the next morning. "Qohor is a land of earthbenders, as well as sandbenders", Kuei explains. "Its founders built these walls solely with their combined bending."

As Kuei sets up his tent to sell his tapestry, Aegon wanders around the city in search of somewhere to live in after his companion goes back to Norvos. A man points to a street full of three-storey buildings where one can rent a small room.

He's about renting business from Braavos, where the practice began. Someone rich would offer small homes for poorer people for regular payment—once a year, twice a year, every moon, and so on. He never saw a renter in Pentos, though he doesn't doubt some will emerge soon. _Illyrio might turn to that line of business, now that he has no son to place on the Iron Throne._

On his way to the aforementioned street, he stops by when he sees a comotion on a square. He asks someone what is happening. "The daily sacrifice to the Black Goat", he replies excitedly. "And today is special, for they will sacrifice a criminal!"

He frowns. He has heard of the city's god, the Black Goat of Qohor, but he was unaware of these 'daily sacrifices' until now. "So the city uses the ritual to execute criminals?"

The man turns to him and looks at him up and down. Seemingly understanding that he's talking to a foreigner, he nods. "Not always, though. They usually offer an animal. Today is a holy day, though, so they bring criminals to the altar."

"I see", he hums. "And what is their crime?"

"Firebending within the sacred site", he replies instantly. "The only benders allowed to practice there are the ones who bend earth or its specialties. The guy claims he did not know the site's limits, since he was new to the city, but it doesn't really annul his crime—and bending the Black Goat's rejected elements is among the highest crimes."

He thanks the man for the information and leaves the square, heading straight back to Kuei's tent. _I cannot stay here either_ , he realizes. _I might meet this man's same fate._

But where will he go? He might have told himself he could pick any place in Essos as his new home, but the truth is, he has no wish to learn a new language. He's fluent in Westerosi Common Tongue, High Valyrian and its bastard variants, Dothraki and a bit of Summer Tongue, but Ibbenese is an enigma to him and gods know what languages people speak beyond the Bone Mountains. He'd rather stick to western Essos.

The best place for him is one where he could practice his bending without raising suspicion. With Norvos banning all kinds of bending and Qohor having odd rules that might earn him a death sentence, he only has the coastal cities to settle in. Pentos is obviously out of question, and so is Braavos. Volantis is notorious for its many firebenders, but no lightningbenders to speak of—those are commonplace in Lys.

He sighs. He did not really want to go to the island city, but he saw no better option. His looks are even more common there, meaning he is unlikely to draw attention. There are guilds for all kinds of benders there, and lightning is no exception. Besides, Lys is the seat of House Rogare, meaning many of their bastards and their descendants bend lightning without raising trouble. With luck, his visits there aboard the _Shy Maid_ have been long forgotten, and his silvery hair won't pose any threat to him.

With the decision clear in his mind, he goes to find a way to go to Lys. After a lot of questioning, he finds out about daily voyages down the Qhoyne river, heading to either Volantis or Myr. He takes a ship to Myr; he remembers the mail outpost there, and thinks of writing to Jon about his exploits.

After thanking Kuei for his help, he gets in the ship. Thanks to Ty Lee's financial aid, he still has money left for when he reaches Myr, but he's not sure if it's enough for him to send a letter to Jon _and_ travel to Lys afterwards—especially if he is to cross the Disputed Lands, a rather dangerous zone to be in. _I'll worry about it when I get there_ , he tells himself.

* * *

The voyage down Qhoyne is uneventful, the endless parade of trees broken only once by the sight of a Rhoynar ruined city—and even that doesn't last long, for most of said ruins are stationed in the mainland.

It is only when they reach the Dagger Lake that Aegon begins to enter familiar territory. He remembers crossing the lake two years ago, when they were going from Pentos to Volantis. Like that time, this ship crosses it during nighttime, with all lights down and all passengers hidden inside to avoid pirate raids. Like that time, it is successful in its goal, and their trip goes on without trouble.

Two days later, though they _are_ attacked on their way to enter the Lhorulu river—the one that ends near Myr. Stone men—people plagued by greyscale to the point their whole skin has a stone-like color and aspect— jump into the ship as it passes through the river's edge. He finds out through people's screams and the stone men's roars. _Fuck_ , he swears mentally. _I have to defend this ship, even if it outs me._ He quickly produces Blackfyre from his bag and goes upstairs to the ship's deck.

It's a huge mess. Not only the stone men are running wild across the deck, a fog encompasses them all, making it even more difficult to tell friend from foe. Regardless, he marches forward with Blackfyre in hand, cutting through every stone man he finds on the way. Sometimes he has to engage in actual combat in order to avoid harming innocents, but he counts ten casualties from the attackers' side before they jump out of the ship.

He tries to hide his sword before going back to his cabin, but a purple-haired man notices. "Is that Valyrian steel, boy?"

Aegon freezes on spot. The question was asked loud enough for everyone on the deck to hear, and Zuko is definitely _not_ supposed to own a sword, let alone a Valyrian steel one. _Think fast, Aegon!_ He looks at the sword; he can't deny its material. "It is", he admits.

"Where did you find it?", the man asks, approaching him.

He tightens his grip on the sword, trying to hide the very Targaryen-like hilt. "I stole it", he claims, "in Qohor." One of the very few things he's always known about that damned city was the fact that it's the only place Valyrian steel is still forged after the Doom of Valyria.

"I'd like to take a look at it."

"I'm afraid not", he replies firmly, taking a step back. "It isn't you, lad, but I'd rather not risk such a precious weapon out of my reach."

The man decides not to argue and jumps at him instead. Aegon lifts the sword and cuts his belly from side to side. Fortunately, it is enough for the man to drop on his knees, screaming in pain as he tries to stop the bleeding.

Unfortunately, he's a member of the main crew, so Aegon is promptly shoved out of the ship right after they get far enough from the Sorrows—the lands of the stone men. "And we're only granting you this mercy because you aided us against the stone men", the captain remarks. "Otherwise you'd have been thrown out of the river right away."

* * *

He goes from one caravan to another, until the last two days of travel are made by foot. The land is not entirely desertic, but it's not forest paradise either, so by the time he catches sight of a camp at the walls of Myr, he is thirsty, hungry and so, so tired.

A Dothraki stops him and asks about his business in the city. "I want to send a letter to Westeros", he replies without thinking. He has no energy to think of what Zuko could be doing in Myr. To be perfectly honest, he's mentally congratulating himself for remembering how to speak in Dothraki.

"Westeros?", he man asks. "Who are you?"

"My foster father lives there", he says instead.

The man looks at him up and down. "Our _khaleesi_ may want to meet you. Daenerys Stormborn."

He blinks. "Daenerys?"

"Yes", he replies slowly. "Do you know her?"

"She—she's my—aunt?"

He's barely aware when the man seizes him and drags him to a tent. He falls asleep soon after anyway.

* * *

By the time _Daenerys Stormborn_ goes to him, the Dothraki men—her blood riders, as he found out after waking up—have already given him enough food and water for him to talk properly, enabling him to introduce himself.

Obviously, she's startled by the introduction. "What do you mean, you were raised as my deceased nephew?"

Behind her, a man appears. He looks considerably older, and—oh, no. If he is who Aegon thinks he is…

He remembers Illyrio talking about having sent a Westerosi man—a Nothernman running away from death penalty—to spy on Daenerys and give him regular reports on her whereabouts. Nothing much, only to keep track of her for when Aegon made his way to her. Now that Aegon no longer chases the Iron Throne, what is this man doing here?

_Perhaps it's someone else entirely_ , he thinks as he sees a blonde woman getting inside the tent as well. "It's a long story", he admits, "for I've been told of this lie all my life." He sees the man growing tense, while the two women just look confused. "It could take all day for me to tell it."

"I'm in no rush", she replies. "Cersei, Ser Jorah, are you in any hurry?"

_Cersei._ She must be the Lannister woman Illyrio reported to have married Daenerys' brother Viserys then. _Ser Jorah_. The name is indeed familiar, so it must be the spy. Concern rises to his throat; is his fake aunt being betrayed from the start? Or has Jorah changed sides?

The two of them shake their heads, and Daenerys turns her eyes back to him. Sighing, he begins his tale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Norvos is indeed a theocracy, ruled essentially by the so-called bearded priests. The god worshipped there has no name to the common people; only priests are allowed to know it. The city is also known for selling good quality tapestry.  
> \- Qohor is a city built in the middle of the forest of the same name. People there worship mostly the Black Goat of Qohor (who does indeed demand daily sacrifices the way I described), but there are many followers of R'hllor.  
> \- All rivers and lakes mentioned are canon. The stone men indeed live in the Sorrows, located slightly south of the Dagger Lake. In fact, Aegon and his crew, alongside Tyrion pass by these two places in canon in the exact same way as pictured here - they go through the lake unnoticed but are attacked by stone men shortly afterwards.  
> \- There is no mention of any renting system anywhere in Essos. I made that up because... well, because I can xD  
> \- By the time of this fic, Doran's wife Mellario has already gone back to Norvos, although the exact year she did it is unknown.  
> \- Queen Rhaenys Targaryen, sister-wife of Aegon the Conqueror, perished alongside her she-dragon Meraxes in Hellhot, in the year 10 AC, during the First Dornish War. Her body was never sent back to Aegon, leading to speculation on her real fate: did she die in the fall? Was she kept alive and tortured? We'll never know.
> 
> I can't promise you the next chapter will be written AND posted next Sunday, since I have other fics that demand my attention as well. Admittedly, this one is my main focus, but Jon's chapter is supposed to be long, so it may take a while since I'm only writing one day per week.

**Author's Note:**

> I have some things planned, but many plot points are still being written. I'm open to suggestions: what do you want to see? If it fits the story, I'll try to do it.  
> Feel free to ask questions and give feedback. This story has its own worldbuilding, and though I'll try to make it as easy to understand as possible, questions might still arise. I'll try to answer them all!  
> We'll get to see most (if not all) ASOIAF characters eventually. As the tags imply, this is based on the books, with very little inspiration from the TV show.


End file.
